More Than Human
by Girl on Fire
Summary: (Lucha Underground) After being shot, a dying Dario reaches out to Catrina, who agrees to resurrect him-for a price. It's a deal that puts both of them in danger. The bitter enemies will be forced to work together and make new allies in hopes of surviving the Order's doomsday plans, their dysfunctional families, and vengeful spirits.
1. Back from the Dead

**DISCLAIMER AND AUTHOR'S NOTES: I don't own any of the characters associated with Lucha Underground, but I do own any original characters that appear later on. My story begins at the end of Ultima Lucha Tres Part 4, except Dario contacts Catrina instead of his father in this version.**

* * *

Dario Cueto was on the brink of death.

The notorious proprietor had centered his entire life around the theme of violence and made countless enemies along the way, so it was only fitting that he should meet a violent end. However, in the seconds that passed between Agent Winter telling Dario he would "be dead" and the actual shooting, the latter couldn't help but feel as shocked as he was betrayed. It was a tragedy to die while only in middle age, and there were so many goals he had yet to achieve...

As he slumped back in his chair, Dario clutched both his wounded stomach and the red bull sculpture that had once saved his life. He clung to the piece as if it could miraculously spare him a second time. An alarming amount of blood poured from the two bullet holes and through the gaps between his fingers. The numbness that had hit him along with the bullets was rapidly spreading throughout his body, and shivers wracked his slight form as he began to go into shock. The metallic tang of blood travelled up his throat and into his mouth.

Dario was too weak to hang on much longer, but he wasn't ready to die, either, so he called out to someone he was confident could save him. The question was, _would_ she? It was a chance he had to take.

"Catrina..." Dario croaked out the name around the blood he was choking on, his Spanish accent barely audible to him since his hearing was muffled. His ears hadn't stopped ringing from the gunshots. No matter how much they loathed each other, he believed the otherworldly woman would somehow overhear his plea and find her way to him. "Catrina, help..."

Sure enough, Catrina teleported into Dario's office in the blink of an eye, the lights flickering to announce her presence. She was holding his salvation in her right hand: a mystical rock capable of reviving the dead, concealed in a silky, wine-colored cloth.

Dressed in a catsuit, her long, black waves hanging loose for a change, Catrina resembled a stereotypical dominatrix as opposed to the ghostly being she was. At the moment, however, Dario saw only the dark angel who had come to his rescue. He stared at her hopefully through the gray veil that obscured his sight.

"I know why you called for me, Dario. I sensed that you were dying." She cocked her head as she studied the blood-drenched hands holding the bull, impassive save for the smirk on her lovely face. Her usual sultry, methodical manner of speaking was maddening under the circumstances. Dario would likely die before he could strike a deal with her. He coughed as he struggled to make his request.

"Please...Please save me..." By now, his voice had been reduced to little more than a whisper. Anguish filled his features as he met Catrina's hazel eyes. He had made a bitter enemy out of the woman whose assistance he now sought, and he was petrified that she might choose to simply watch him die with no intention of resurrecting him.

Catrina's ridiculously high heels clicked as she walked around the desk to stand at Dario's left side. He flinched when she traced a sharp, painted fingernail along the contour of his cheekbone and leaned in close to murmur in his ear, "I will give you what you want-for a price."

"An-Anything," he promised desperately, wanting nothing more than a second chance at life. They could work out the specifics later.

Through his increasingly limited vision, Dario _thought_ he saw Catrina's smirk widen, and that's when he knew she would keep her promise. If his body and brain hadn't been shutting down, he would have questioned what, exactly, had motivated her to revive a man she despised.

"Then we have a deal. Close your eyes, Dario. It won't be long now."

Dario tried to relax, knowing that his impending death was only temporary, but he was simply too frightened to follow her instructions. The darkness was already closing in on him, and he wanted no part of it. When he failed to comply, Catrina swept her hand over his lids and did it for him. He tipped his head back against the chair and waited for the end.

An ominous feeling accompanied Dario Cueto's final heartbeats.

At first, it was a relief to stop fighting a battle he couldn't win, but then a terrible blackness swallowed him, and he knew it was time to start paying for his sins...

* * *

Agent Winter smiled to himself as he exited the Temple.

Thanks to him, that incompetent madman Dario Cueto was either dead or dying and the gauntlet would soon be secured. Also, because of his actions, someone handpicked by the Order would be in charge of the Temple from now on...Finally, he'd had the presence of mind to collect a very important piece of paper from Dario's desk just before leaving him to die.

The "new management" he had informed Cueto about would undoubtedly be pleased with the FBI agent's accomplishments. He was certain he would be generously compensated for everything he had done lately to support the cause.

Agent Winter paused outside the exit door to take a peek at the project Dario had been working on. He reached into a pocket on the right side of his suit jacket and retrieved a folded sheet that had been torn off a memo pad. Upon unfolding the paper, he found himself looking at a list of names printed neatly in black ink.

He noted that the other man hadn't made much progress. But, to be fair, Dario had received his latest-and final-assignment from the Order shortly before his untimely demise...Only two names out of nine had been crossed off so far.

Dario was supposed to use his knowledge to narrow the list down to a handful of the most qualified candidates. With him out of the picture, Agent Winter intended to share the list with the Temple's new proprietor and offer his assistance in researching and selecting the right individuals. The first success would dictate who was next in line, and he couldn't _wait_ to get started...

He folded the paper in half again and slipped it back into his pocket before going on his way.

* * *

Everything that had been weighing on Catrina's mind lately-her undead state, losing her debut match against Ivelisse, King Cuerno stealing Mil's gauntlet, Fenix's relationship with Melissa Santos-faded to background noise when she saw Dario bleeding out.

She could have happily ignored his cry for help...Hell, there was still time to renege on their agreement and leave his body somewhere to rot and his soul to suffer eternal torture. But bringing him back would give her infinite power over a nemesis with much to offer, which was an opportunity too good to pass up.

Her mind made up, Catrina scooped Dario into her arms-he was lightweight even as a corpse-and envisioned the dark, cramped apartment she called home.

Moments later, the purple lamp sitting on a side table flickered and turned on automatically when Catrina-with Dario-teleported into her living room. She laid the short, slender man's body down on a black leather sofa, then removed the red bull gripped in his hands and set it on the coffee table. It simply wasn't practical to resurrect Dario at the Temple when she didn't know who or where his killer was. But nobody knew where Catrina spent her spare time...Not Mil or Jeremiah or even her mother. Dario would be safe as long as he remained here.

He had only been dead a few minutes, but it must have felt like an eternity to him. She shuddered to think what kind of torment he was being subjected to on the Other Side. Someone so brutal in life would not be allowed to escape punishment in death, but Catrina nonetheless couldn't help but feel that Dario was one of the lucky ones. He would be fully alive again in mere seconds, whereas she was perpetually trapped between life and death.

"It is time to awaken from your eternal slumber, Dario Cueto, and rejoin the land of the living." Catrina held the stone above Dario's face as she stood next to him, dangling the supernatural-infused relic just inches from his forehead. The large rock emitted a brilliant emerald green glow through the burgundy cloth she had wrapped it in, indicating the magic flowing through it. Her hand tingled from the immense power she held.

Seconds later, Dario's eyes popped open and he gasped loudly, drawing in the air he needed once again. Catrina stepped aside so the wild-eyed man could sit up. His frightened gaze darted around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, but his posture relaxed after he saw the array of candles, the Cueto family heirloom, and his black-clad savior.

He touched his bullet hole-riddled shirt in wonder before a grin slowly spread across his handsome face. "I knew I could count on you, Catrina."

She shrugged. "I told you: we had a deal."

"About that..." He grimaced at the reminder and sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, then reached for the sculpture that had graced the desk in his former office. "I..."

Whatever Dario intended to say died on his tongue when Catrina's eyes flashed a warning against backing out of their Devil's bargain. She hadn't expected gratitude from someone as arrogant as Dario Cueto-and she wasn't going to waste her time waiting for a proper thank you-but he would be wise to remember that he was literally a dead man without her.

He licked his lips nervously. "I just wondered what you wanted in exchange. That's all." It was clear that Dario hadn't forgotten exactly how dangerous the enigmatic woman could be.

Catrina mulled it over. She wanted so much from Dario Cueto-things that would infuriate him and things that would shock him out of his skin. But, no matter how appalled he was, his fear of dying again was so great that he would ultimately comply with every single one of her demands.

"We can discuss the terms of our agreement later." She perched on the arm of the far end of the sofa and crossed one leg over the other as she studied Dario. He was watching her in return, as wary as she was curious. Predictably, his gaze strayed now and then to her feminine assets, enhanced by her daring choice of outfit. "Who shot you?"

He narrowed his cold, black-brown orbs-which bore an eerie resemblance to Catrina's own irises-at her. "It doesn't matter. You wouldn't know him, anyway."

 _Him._ So much for her theories about Black Lotus seeking revenge or a woman who rejected his advances..."One of your 'friends' from the Order, then?" she guessed, and Dario looked panic-stricken in response. Catrina gave him a fleeting, smug smile. "I am familiar with the Order and their...supernatural ambitions."

He sighed heavily. "Of course you are. All right, yes, it was one of them-and I assure you the son of a bitch will be dead soon." The hand that wasn't holding the bull clenched into a vengeful fist.

Catrina thought that a man destined to be haunted by ghosts shouldn't kill off yet another enemy, but she knew Dario was too stubborn to heed her advice-and it wasn't like she actually cared about his welfare...She opted to keep her thoughts to herself and let him learn that lesson the hard way.

He played with the large key that always hung from a cord around his neck. "Is it true that dying changes you? That you can see and hear the dead afterward?"

She nodded. "Those of us marked by death will always have one foot in the grave. The spirits who have stayed on the Other Side will stop at nothing to get you back."

Dario, understandably, looked truly shaken by this chilling information. "I am alive," he said after a long, contemplative silence, and waved a hand as if to dismiss her alarming statement. "That is the most important thing. And now, I have business to attend to..." He stood abruptly, and Catrina had to guide him back to the sofa when he swayed on his feet.

"You need to rest."

"My killer is still out there," he protested, making a face when he realized how odd the sentence sounded. "And my baby brother needs me." He briefly raised his torn shirt just high enough to reveal the dried blood covering otherwise unblemished skin. "Besides, I've already healed. See?"

"Don't be foolish. You can barely stand, let alone walk," she pointed out. "You will stay here until _I_ decide it is safe for you to leave."

He frowned. "But my brother-"

"I am sure that Matanza can survive one night without you around." Catrina somehow managed to resist the intense urge she had to roll her eyes. Dario sometimes talked about Matanza as if he were still a young boy and not a grown man possessed by a god. "We will check on him in the morning-together.

"Do _not_ test my patience, Dario," she snapped when his features grew resentful. "I may decide you're more trouble than you're worth and throw you to the wolves."

"I understand," he answered swiftly, looking away before adding in an anxious tone, "Mil doesn't know about this place, does he?"

"No one knows." She had no intention of sharing their secret hideaway's location with anyone else, but it was better if Dario thought she might let it slip if he stepped too far out of line. Mil Muertes had unrequited feelings for Catrina and a nasty habit of maiming any man who expressed interest in her, and learning that Dario was staying with the woman he loved would be enough to set Mil off.

"Good, good." He cradled the red bull against his chest and stroked it like a beloved pet before leaning back against the arm of the sofa. Dario's gaze rested on the ceiling and he said nothing for awhile-no doubt because he was busy creating a mental list of all the diabolical things he intended to do once he was a free man.

If those plans involved running the Temple and retrieving the gauntlet-and Catrina was positive they did-Dario was in for a rude awakening. But she decided not to flaunt her considerable power over the man just yet. She wanted him to be fully coherent when she started throwing her weight around.

The look on his face when that happened would be priceless...

"I'm sorry about the-about Mil's gauntlet," he said after some time had passed. When he turned back to Catrina, his expression was grave. "It is important that you get it back as soon as possible."

 _Get it back or back to_ you _, Dario?_ she wondered, knowing he would never see the gauntlet again. She intended to teleport the coveted prize straight to her mother in exchange for the other half of the Piedra Immortal amulet. That was something she had been waiting a long, _long_ time for...

"Catrina?" Dario's sexy Spanish accent intruded on her thoughts and she raised her head.

"Don't worry. I will," she assured him, but she needed the element of surprise on her side. Cuerno would be expecting her arrival tonight. She needed to make sure he was either asleep or otherwise preoccupied.

A relieved Dario nodded, and Catrina noticed that his eyelids were drooping. It seemed that the adrenaline rush from being resurrected had finally worn off. "You forgot to give me the Lick of Death," he informed her with a smirk, a statement that surprised a throaty laugh out of the dark-haired woman. "Am I not worthy?"

"Death did come to you tonight..." she mused, and decided on the spot to indulge him. She had licked many people far less attractive than Dario Cueto, and at least he wasn't wearing a sweaty leather mask...

Catrina sauntered over to Dario and took his face between her hands, trying to ignore the giddy spark in his eyes-eyes now so dark that the irises were almost black. As it had with Mil, death had indeed left a physical mark on Dario alongside the traumatic supernatural changes that inevitably resulted from dying and resurrection.

She swiped her tongue over his chin, dragged it up his lips and nose, and continued the lick all the way to his hairline. He shuddered at her touch, and she could taste an intriguing blend of fear and lust on his skin. She pulled away from him somewhat reluctantly and returned to the spot where she had been sitting.

"That," Dario declared with a tired grin as he stretched out across the sofa, "was worth dying for"-and immediately passed out. Catrina smirked as she watched him sleep. She was used to having men drool over her, and having an attractive man around to provide eye candy for _her_ was a nice change of pace. Her attraction to Dario was only skin deep, however: he was emotionally scarred and corrupt to the core, and-judging by some of the rumors she'd heard-his treatment of women in the bedroom was appalling.

Fortunately for him, he was also _useful_.

"Sweet dreams, Dario," Catrina whispered sardonically, knowing he would be plagued by nightmares from now on.

He would also soon discover that his suffering wouldn't cease once he awakened...


	2. Death Comes to Everyone

Unlike her friends, Taya found herself brooding over something much worse than Johnny Mundo's loss of the Lucha Underground Championship. Someone had recently died, and she was determined to find out who the victim was.

She might not be on active valkyrie duty at the moment-her association with the "immoral individuals" of the Worldwide Underground had gotten her in hot water back in the realm of Asgard-but she would never lose her harbinger powers. She still had her wings, too, although she kept them hidden until needed.

Right now, those supernatural senses were _screaming_ at Taya to do something. She stood up, trying to ignore the headache she'd acquired after Johnny had accidentally struck her with a steel chair, and glanced at the rest of the Worldwide Underground. They had formed a circle in the locker room and were deep in conversation. Only PJ Black caught the Canadian's eye and wandered over to talk to her.

"I know what happened," he told her in his soft South African accent. His green-flecked, hazel eyes were compassionate yet haunted. "I heard the gunshots and I can smell the blood."

 _Gunshots. A murder._ Taya sighed. Of course he already knew. The werewolf had probably detected the signs as they occurred, whereas she felt someone's death in her gut before it actually happened.

Taya anticipated PJ's next words: "Wanna investigate?"

She nodded eagerly. "Yeah-but, um, you don't have to come with me." PJ had lost his father to gun violence when he was only eighteen, and she didn't want him to relive the worst day of his life.

"I want to," he insisted, slipping into the protective older brother role he often took on away from the cameras and the Believers. He mumbled something to Jack Evans and Ricky Mundo-Taya still couldn't believe the latter had legally changed his last name-about taking Taya to get checked for a concussion. Since her boyfriend was indulging in one of his usual long showers, they would no doubt return before he finished.

"I'm sure it's nothing," she added valiantly, rolling her eyes when PJ wrapped an arm around her shoulder as if she was dizzy and needed help walking. In reality, valkyries were tough as nails. The chair shot was more of an annoyance than a threat to her health.

Neither man seemed to care or even notice that their teammates had left.

The two were hardly inconspicuous in the darkened corridors of the Temple-PJ was clad in a lime green tank with a white bandana wrapped around his forehead, while Taya wore a red-orange top and her blonde-and-red hair was fashioned in multiple buns-but, luckily for them, everyone else seemed to have gone home. Taya walked slightly ahead of her werewolf friend, allowing her intuition to guide her to the scene of the crime.

Nausea engulfed her when she realized she had stopped in front of Dario Cueto's office. She knew that her employer had committed murder in the past-he had even served time in prison for it-so she wouldn't put it past the twisted bastard to kill again. But what if someone had gotten to _him_? Dario was the type of man who could make an enemy out of almost everyone he met-including Taya herself.

PJ and Taya peered through the smudged window, but there was no body visible, nor any indication of a struggle. Taya didn't see any ghosts, either, although the victim was probably off haunting his-or her-murderer. The valkyrie shuddered as she placed a palm against the wooden door in order to force a death vision and learn more.

 _A bald, middle-aged man with deep brown skin sat across from a visibly nervous Dario. The former was dressed neatly in a suit and tie and projected an aura of confidence, giving the impression that he was someone important. Each man had a drink in hand, and Dario stammered when he spoke._

 _"Please...Tell your boss that I...I will get the gauntlet back."_

 _The stranger smiled-a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't you worry. You get a pass." He sounded American._

 _"I do? Why?" Suspicion was written all over Dario's face and crept into his voice as well. Each man set his glass down on the desk._

 _His visitor rose from his chair, grinning. "B_ _ecause you'll be dead." He_ _reached for the gun he had concealed in a holster beneath his jacket and immediately fired twice at a terrified Dario's midsection._

Taya recoiled from the door and nearly bumped into PJ. Witnessing a murder was always shocking, yet this particular slaying felt like a scene from a movie as opposed to an authentic harbinger's vision. Dario had been mortal, yes, but he nonetheless seemed untouchable. Between his powerful brother, endless piles of money, and connections to people in high places, he always had someone in his corner to protect him or bail him out of trouble.

Not this time, apparently.

"What did you see?" PJ whispered, clearly alarmed by whatever expression Taya had plastered on her face.

"It's Dario. He's dead," she whispered back. She wouldn't waste any of her precious time grieving for the sleazy lowlife, but she was still floored by the man's untimely passing.

A grim-faced PJ wasted no time in taking her arm and steering the stunned valkyrie away from the crime scene. As they briskly walked away, Taya mulled over Dario's statement to the mystery man. She had spent most of the evening with her friends and boyfriend, oblivious to the other matches on the card, and had no idea the gauntlet had disappeared. There were rumors floating around the Temple that both Dario and the gauntlet were connected to some plot to bring about a major war.

Odin would _definitely_ be interested in anything having to do with war and the possibility of Ragnarok coming...If Taya managed to uncover concrete evidence of a conspiracy and relay the details to the Norse god, she just might earn back His respect and trust. She might even be able to restore her once-stellar reputation in Asgard, now tarnished by her actions in the Temple.

But was a little glory worth risking a death sentence should Dario's killer or anyone else involved in this alleged plan learn about her special abilities? After what had happened to Dario over the gauntlet, Taya was reluctant to take action-although she kept the idea in the back of her mind.

She bit her lip as she debated her options. Valkyries were supposed to be honorable and brave, but she felt like neither at the moment.

* * *

When he woke up, Dario initially dismissed the previous night's experiences as yet another one of the bizarre nightmares that had repeatedly disturbed his sleep.

Then he tasted blood and saw Catrina watching him from a chair opposite the sofa he was reclining on-and the grim reality sank in. Being shot by Agent Winter, dying, his brief but traumatic trip to the afterlife, resurrection via Catrina's magic stone, receiving the Lick of Death...Every single one of those things had actually happened.

Dario didn't mind reliving the Lick of Death, but he was anxious to forget the rest.

"Were you watching me all night?" He realized he had fallen asleep with the bull in his hands and immediately touched the key to confirm it was still around his neck. Having sentimental items around helped alleviate some of his homesickness.

She shrugged. "Not all night. I did pay Mil a visit...He is furious about the gauntlet."

"Understandably so." Dario didn't want to talk about Mil Muertes-nor did he want to dwell on how the Man of a Thousand Deaths might punish him if he learned of his current living arrangements. He eased himself into a sitting position, relieved when the movement failed to bring him any discomfort. Save for the lingering emotional wounds, it was almost as if he had never gotten shot in the first place...He wondered if the bullets had passed straight through him or if they were lodged somewhere deep inside. "I'd like to see my brother now"-His stomach suddenly growled, much to his embarrassment-"and maybe get something to eat." Morning sunlight streamed through the ruby red curtains, tinting the room with a faint glow, and allowing enough light in for Dario to squint at his watch. It was just after seven o'clock.

He could tell by Catrina's startled expression that she hadn't considered this aspect of sheltering a human. It must have been centuries since she had last eaten or had anything to drink.

"I...I can buy something for you."

The mental image of a bewildered Catrina wandering the grocery store aisles or entering a fast foot restaurant in a catsuit made him snicker.

"You should probably change clothes first..."

Catrina glanced downward at her outfit and pursed her lips thoughtfully. She teleported elsewhere, then caused Dario to jump slightly when she reappeared in the living room several minutes later. She had changed into one of the low-cut tank tops she used to wear during the first season of Lucha Underground, tight leather pants, and fairly low heels-all in black, of course. Her hair was artfully arranged so that it concealed her breasts, and a purse was slung over one shoulder.

"Better?"

He nodded, although he was tempted to suggest putting her hair up. Everything that Catrina wore managed to hug her curves in all the right places. She looked stunning, intimidating, and altogether human, and yet he knew she was something _else_. But what, exactly?

"Are you a ghost? Is that why you don't eat?" That would also explain the teleporting and why electricity reacted to her, but she was as solid as any human being-and stronger than most.

"I am neither ghost nor human." A trace of sorrow darted across her usually emotionless face. "I suppose you could consider me _undead_."

"Even the undead feed," he reminded her, warming to the subject. "Vampires, zombies...How do you sustain yourself?"

"Emotions, life energy." Catrina's tone and crossed arms implied that she was uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had taken. "I absorb whatever I can through the Lick of Death-among other methods." She dug through her purse and produced a slip of scrap paper and a pen. "Make a list, but keep it simple."

 _Make a list._ Those words echoed in his head, reminding him of the list he had left in plain view on his desk and diverting his thoughts from Catrina's identity. Fear twisted his stomach into a painful knot. It was crucial that he find the list before anyone else from the Order did and scratch off Catrina so the "new management" would lose interest in her and move on.

The odds were incredibly slim, of course, but if something happened to her and he died again...His mouth went dry as he stared at the blank paper she had given him. All he had to do was get in, draw a line through her name, and get out-without making Catrina suspicious-

"Feeling indecisive?"

"A little," he lied, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. He ended up writing down the first foods and beverages that popped into his mind. As he handed the paper to Catrina, he wondered how he could persuade her to stop by his office without revealing too much information. It was a dilemma he would ponder while she was away.

"Wait. I insist on paying." The last thing Dario wanted was to add to the debt he already owed the woman. He reached into his pocket for his wallet and shoved a handful of bills at her without counting them. Catrina assessed the amount of money for herself and smiled as she stuffed the cash in her purse. "Oh, and can you get me another black shirt? I don't want Matanza to see the bullet holes." The renewed desire to avenge his own death threatened to consume him. He couldn't _wait_ to find Agent Winter and bash his skull in with the bull...

Catrina nodded. "I'll be back soon. Don't even _think_ of leaving, Dario-I can find you anywhere simply by picturing you, and you will _not_ like the consequences." She blinked out of the apartment, leaving Dario dumbfounded and slightly envious of her ghost-like skill set. He took a minute or two to collect himself before gently setting the bull on the coffee table and getting up to use the bathroom.

Afterward, he embarked on a tour of the apartment, only to find himself disappointed with the lack of what he considered basic amenities. There was, however, a comprehensive home library right in the living room. Dario ran his fingers along a row of worn book spines, pleased with the various macabre subjects he came across. Unsurprisingly, Catrina's reading material included an abundance of books on Aztec culture and mythology. Her collection also included writing on ghosts, the afterlife, general mythology, and true crime.

Dario smiled as he turned away and wandered into the kitchen. At least he had found a meaningful way to pass the time.

In the kitchen, Catrina had a landline telephone-he guessed that someone with her powers didn't have much use for a cellphone-sitting on the table and in need of dusting. Inspiration struck Dario and he lifted the receiver-the phone was indeed functional-then began punching in a familiar number. A wave of uneasiness swept over him after he had entered the first three digits and he slammed the phone down with a groan. He covered his face, feeling like he could never trust anyone again.

Dying made him want to reach out to his family-friends didn't exist in his volatile world-and with Matanza waiting in his cell and their bitch of a mother long dead, Papá Cueto was the only one he could call. But something-some gut instinct-had caused Dario to question his father's priorities at the last second. The Order's mission always seemed to come first with him, and Dario couldn't help but wonder if Agent Winter hadn't acted independently when he shot him. Maybe his own father had-

 _No! Pap_ _á_ _loves me. He would_ never _have_ _me killed-even if I did let the Order down...Then again, he did sacrifice his other son..._

Sickened by the dark turn his thoughts had taken, Dario jumped up and shoved the chair aside. He needed a diversion-like exploring the other half of Catrina's apartment.

Given the overall size of Catrina's place, he wasn't surprised to learn there was only one bedroom. The bed looked as if it had never been slept in, and he wondered if she ever used it for other, more interesting activities. He decided to check out Catrina's clothing since there wasn't much else in the room. Like his, her clothes were almost entirely black-but she did have some red lacy bras and underwear stashed away in the dresser. Not that _he_ would ever get to see her in lingerie...

It made him wonder what other secrets she was keeping.

There was a jewelry box on the nightstand that held various earrings, rings, and necklaces. Oddly, none of the pieces looked especially ancient or valuable. He would expect that someone over two hundred years old would have acquired some family heirlooms...She probably just had them stashed away somewhere no one else would ever think to look.

Dario shut the lid to the jewelry box and turned off the bedside lamp he had clicked on earlier. Catrina could come back at any moment, and she would raise hell if she realized he'd been snooping through her possessions.

It was imperative that he stay on her good side.

He frowned when he thought about the woman who had saved him. She was as dangerous as she was alluring, and he vividly recalled the numerous acts of violence she had committed against him in the past. He was grateful to Catrina for rescuing him from the "Other Side" and giving him sanctuary, yet he resented her for taking advantage of his dire situation.

Dario sighed heavily. He simply didn't know how to handle a woman he couldn't bend to his will through flattery, force, or a combination of both-but he needed to learn in a hurry.

As he stepped into the hallway, he remembered his current dilemma. He decided the simplest option was to ask Catrina nicely to take him to his office so he could look for something. If she pressed him for further details, he would promise to explain the specifics later-which would buy him a little more time to decide what he should and should not tell her.

A woman materialized in front of him without warning, causing Dario to cry out in shock. Her head, hair, and the upper half of her dress were all drenched in blood, and, although it had been decades since he had last seen her, Dario instantly recognized his late mother. He staggered backward, heart slamming against his chest.

"No," he whimpered. Hadn't she tormented him enough? In addition to his childhood abuse, Dario had spent decades being harassed by his mother in his nightmares and the memories that fought their way to the surface on occasion...Hers had also been the first face he saw after he died. Now the wicked woman was determined to haunt his waking hours, too.

Part of Dario wanted to yell for Catrina to come rescue him, but his pride would not allow her to intervene. Besides, the horrid apparition would only reappear as soon as Catrina departed.

"You don't belong here," she hissed in Spanish. The malice in her tone, the way her lips curled in contempt...Those familiar mannerisms made her come alive, but she still resembled a watercolor painting as opposed to an actual person. "There is no escaping death."

"I already did." Dario's voice trembled as he reverted to his native tongue, and he despised himself for showing weakness in front of her. Their dynamic had changed radically since the last time he had seen her alive, but the terror her violent temper had instilled in him would last forever.

"You belong to the Other Side now, and you _will_ come home." The certainty in her tone was frightening. Her long fingers reached out for him, complete with nails sharp as daggers, and he stumbled in his haste to get out of range. "No one can save you now, Dario. Not your brother, not your father, not even the undead woman."

"I don't need anyone to save me from a _ghost_ ," he snarled. "There's nothing you can do to me anymore-"

A taunting smile crossed the phantom's battered and bloody face and she cackled with cruel, maniacal laughter as she advanced. Dario backed away, feeling as if the blood in his veins had turned to ice.

He desperately hoped he was right about ghosts being unable to harm the living. Because, if he was wrong, he was about to die another gruesome death...

* * *

Catrina teleported into the living room with two plastic bags in each hand and her purse hanging off her shoulder. She hoped she had gotten enough food to last a few days, because she wasn't sure how long Dario was going to be staying with her-and grocery shopping was a dreadful chore. There were too many options, too many people, and it took an absurdly long time to get one's purchases scanned and paid for.

Dario wasn't on the sofa when she had returned and his red bull was waiting on the coffee table. She thought he was probably in the bathroom, so she went into the kitchen to set everything down while she waited for him to come out.

His voice suddenly rang out from down the hall, and Catrina was confused to hear him angrily speaking Spanish until he referenced his mother.

"I meant what I said before, Mama. No more! You will never, ever hurt me again, you sadistic bitch!"

Curiosity propelled Catrina into the hallway. She found herself standing behind a translucent, black-haired woman clad in a dress that appeared a dull gray from age and use. Those long, matted locks only partially covered the back of her caved-in skull, and she shook her head like she found her son's outburst amusing.

Dario was facing the evil spirit, and the terror written all over his face contrasted starkly with the venom spewing from his lips. His fists were clenched but he was quivering like the terrorized little boy he had once been, subjected to endless beatings and drunken rants. Catrina actually pitied him and wanted to do something to get rid of the horrid bitch, but Dario needed to learn to fend for himself. She wasn't his bodyguard.

"Oh, son..." his mother replied mockingly and in the same language. "You don't know just how wrong you are..."

Dario shifted into attack mode and lunged, but he fell through the ghost of his mother since she vanished just before he could strangle her. He instinctively transferred his rage to Catrina and wrapped his hands around her throat instead. Catrina was impervious to pain-she felt only increasing pressure-so she responded by calmly prying his hands off her neck and holding his wrists until he came to his senses.

"Your mother is gone, Dario," she murmured in English.

He stopped thrashing and stared at her, breathing hard and looking like a trapped animal torn between fight and flight. It occurred to Catrina that her olive complexion and similar hairstyle gave her a vague resemblance to Dario's abusive mother. In his panicked state, he hadn't been able to discern the differences between the two women.

"Catrina?" he asked uncertainty, and the tension seemed to drain out of him when she nodded. Dario went back to speaking English. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to attack you." He kept glancing around as if to make sure that the spirit hadn't returned to enact revenge.

"I know." Dario was too clever to deliberately provoke Catrina's wrath after she had both resurrected and threatened him. She regarded him with just a touch of empathy. "You'll get used to them-the spirits-eventually. I did." She would never forget just how terrified she had been those first few weeks after dying. The voices, the visions...Everyone who died and every harbinger of death went through the same thing. The difference was, Dario had someone around who understood what he was going through. Catrina had been utterly alone save for the damned ghosts who followed her around like lost puppies.

"I'll never get used to _that_ ," he mumbled.

Catrina turned abruptly and walked away. "There is food in the kitchen," she called over her shoulder, knowing a change of subject would do them both some good. Dario's footsteps echoed behind hers after a brief delay. "I also brought you a shirt like you requested."

"Uh, thank you." Catrina smirked at how uncomfortable Dario sounded expressing gratitude while she was busy unloading the groceries. He reached for the bag of white bread as soon as she set it down on the table and removed the plastic clip holding it shut.

"You'll have to use the oven if you want toast." She wasn't about to waste her money on an appliance she would never use, but Dario was free to use his own cash to buy a toaster or anything else he wanted.

"I can't wait that long." He grabbed a slice of bread from the bag, spread butter on it, and took a bite. The plastic utensils and cups and paper plates had been last minute purchases when Catrina realized she owned nothing of the sort.

She stood around and waited in contemplative silence while Dario sat and wolfed down the buttered bread. He had probably had better food while in prison, but he was too hungry to complain.

He leaped to his feet immediately after swallowing the last bit of crust and washing it down with half a paper cup of orange juice. "Let's go."

"Not until you clean yourself up and change shirts." Catrina had draped the black, button-down, long-sleeved shirt over a chair after taking it out of the bag, and now she tossed it to her houseguest.

He caught the shirt, shook it out, and studied it. "A little loose, but I can tuck it in."

"I can get you another one if you want. My neighbor has several shirts that are nearly identical, and he will be at work the entire day."

Dario blinked a few times before chuckling. "I may take you up on that offer." He retreated to the bathroom, and, when he came back, he looked more than presentable. "All right. I'm ready."

Catrina took his hand, which earned her a funny look. "I have to be touching you in order for this to work." She was tempted to ask if there was something else he'd rather she grab instead, then thought better of it.

"Fine-but take me to my office first." Catrina arched a brow at him expectantly and he added hastily, " _Please_. I need to look for something in there."

"As you wish." Catrina closed her eyes and visualized Dario's _former_ office. When she opened her eyes again a second later, they had arrived at their intended destination. The light came on in response to her presence. She immediately dropped Dario's hand and he turned to her, looking impressed.

"Well, that's...convenient," he remarked before heading over to his desk. He paused for a moment beside his chair to stare at the bullet holes and bloodstains now decorating said chair. Some of his blood had spilled onto the floor below as well. Next, his gaze landed on the two glasses on the desk-one empty, one containing some leftover bourbon. Catrina knew it was bourbon because the glasses were labeled as such. Dario's lips contorted into a grimace, but he otherwise appeared to be frozen in place.

"You were looking for something," Catrina prompted impatiently. She went over to the door and glanced out the dirty window, half expecting Jeremiah Crane to be skulking around the halls, but they were alone in this part of the Temple. Jeremiah was wasting his time stalking her, although it seemed there was nothing Catrina could say or do to diminish his obsession.

"Yes. Of course." Dario's hands shook as he rifled through the various papers scattered across his desk, and he became increasingly agitated with each passing second. "It was _right here_..."

Catrina suspected that whatever Dario was searching for so urgently must be connected to the Order and their sinister plans. Another trinket infused with power from the gods, perhaps?

"I will help you search if you tell me what-"

" _No_!" Dario's protest was entirely too loud for the small room and both of them cringed. Catrina involuntarily glanced out the window again to ensure no one was around to overhear. Dario, meanwhile, lowered his voice. "It's no use. I can't find it anywhere." Defeat changed to horror and then rage. Watching the emotions play out across his face was fascinating. "Winter!" he declared in a snarl, and his open palm smacked the desk. "That bastard must have stolen it after he"-He paused to swallow-"shot me."

 _Winter. Likely a last name._ Catrina made a mental note to interrogate Dario about the man who took his life after they returned home.

"Whatever it is, it must be important." _Important to the Order._ She was interested to know if Dario's feelings towards the organization and the people involved had changed after being executed in cold blood by one of his own peers. Was he hunting for something to use against them-or still doing their dirty work?

Dario nodded. "Very much so." He sighed, looking so distraught that Catrina became gravely concerned about the missing item's significance. That was another topic she intended to broach with him later. "But it's not here, so we might as well go see my brother." Dario returned to his desk drawers and stuffed his pockets with handfuls of cash, then approached Catrina and reluctantly extended his right hand to her. A second later, the two of them were standing in front of the cell that was Matanza's home.

Matanza had been pacing the length of the cell, but he immediately came to the front of his cell when he saw his older brother. Dario hurried over to him.

"I didn't forget about you, baby brother," he assured him. "I'm sorry I couldn't check on you after dinner last night"-There was an empty plate shoved to one corner of the cell-"but something...came up."

Catrina heard movement from behind her, and she turned around to see who was residing across from Matanza in the second cell.

"Catrina? What are _you_ doing here-and why are you with _him_?" A bewildered Rey Mysterio gestured to Dario before focusing on Catrina again.

"Rey Mysterio. I was wondering what happened to you," she replied coolly, but she had no intention of answering his questions. Aside from Dario, she didn't owe anyone an explanation for her choices.

"I thought my brother would like some entertainment." Dario grinned at the imprisoned luchador and added cheerfully, "So I got him a pet." His demented explanation brought a smirk to Catrina's face. It seemed that Dario had emerged from the Other Side with his sense of humor intact.

Matanza had locked eyes with Catrina from the moment Dario turned away from him, and what she read in his dark eyes would have sent any other woman running. They reflected equal amounts of hatred and lust combined with a healthy dose of suspicion. He grunted several times and rattled the bars, but Catrina stood her ground without flinching or even blinking.

As she had told her mother, the gods did not scare her.

"It's okay, Matanza." Dario talked in a soft tone intended to soothe, but his "baby brother" seemed even more distressed than before. He regarded the older man strangely, tilting his head first to the right, then the left-like he had noticed something that hadn't been there before and was disturbed by his discovery. "Catrina helped me when I was in trouble. We're...friends now." Dario glanced over his shoulder as if to see if she approved of him using the term to describe their connection. She nodded indifferently. He could say whatever he wanted if his words convinced that monster to tolerate-and possibly even protect-her. After all, she wasn't yet immortal, and someone with as many enemies as she had could never have enough powerful allies.

But Dario and Catrina were far from being friends, although they were getting along better than she had expected-probably because Dario was going out of his way _not_ to antagonize her. Of course, it helped that he had been unconscious for hours on end following his resurrection...

"Wait...You two formed some kind of unholy alliance?" Rey shook his head. "Man, just when I thought this place couldn't get any weirder..."

"I would suggest keeping your thoughts to yourself, Rey," Dario snapped. "Unless, of course, you wish to join Matanza in his cell." Matanza made a noise that likely indicated approval, excitement, or both.

"No, thanks," Rey muttered.

Mariana's gaze had remained on Dario during the brief exchange with Mysterio. He hesitantly slid a thick finger between the bars and laid it against his brother's face in a tender manner that Catrina hadn't thought him capable of. His brown eyes closed momentarily and he grunted again, quieter this time. Then he retracted his hand and clutched the top of his head with a loud groan as though stricken with a headache.

"What? What is it?" demanded Dario.

"Dead," he growled, taking a step back and looking straight at the elder Cueto. Rey gasped but said nothing, and Dario vigorously shook his head in response.

 _He knows._ Catrina suspected the god within the man had sensed the change in Dario as soon as he had entered the room, but Matanza needed to confirm it via contact. That was why he had been so restless earlier. Technically, Dario was alive-far more alive than Catrina-but the dead would stalk him for the rest of his days.

"No, no...I am alive, Matanza," Dario insisted. "Alive!" He lightly slapped his chest just over his heart for emphasis.

"Dead," his brother repeated in a voice that implied speech was rare for him and a struggle to pull off.

Dario leaned in close to him and said something Catrina couldn't hear. Matanza seemed slightly calmer afterward, and the woman struggled with an unexpected pang of envy. The Cueto family was infinitely more dysfunctional than hers, yet the brothers were closer than she had ever been with her mother, her sole living relation.

Catrina repressed a shiver as she watched the siblings interact-and not just because Matanza kept staring intently at her whenever he wasn't focused on Dario. She had witnessed-not to mention participated in-many terrible things over the years, but Matanza's transformation from human being to host body was creepy even by her standards.

She might be undead and bitter about it, but at least she still had all her memories and the ability to think for herself and form her own opinions. And, although she held a grudge against her mother for trapping her between worlds, at least she hadn't caused her own child's death like Matanza's father.

How much of his old self had Matanza retained beyond his flesh? Anything? At best, there probably wasn't much left behind except for shadowy impressions from his human past...

It seemed to Catrina that nothing was more tragic than losing one's soul to murder so that his or her body could be occupied by someone else's spirit.


	3. Allies

For the first time since being restored to life, Dario felt like his old self again.

Standing in front of his brother's cell and talking to him like he did every day helped push all the negativity to the back of his mind. He even forgot about Catrina's presence until she tapped him on the shoulder. This time, she actually waited for him to turn around instead of pulling her usual disappearing act before reappearing elsewhere.

"We should leave soon." She lowered her voice to elaborate on the reason why. "It is best to keep your visits to the Temple brief in case you have...unwanted visitors." Matanza reluctantly shifted his predatory gaze away from her and grunted in concern for his older brother's welfare.

"Ah. Of course." Winter or another Order member would likely come to investigate after some time had passed without a body being reported. Dario smiled at Matanza and reached through the bars to give his younger sibling's callused fingers a comforting squeeze. "I will be back soon, brother-and with food," he promised, despite failing to seek Catrina's permission first. He was positive she would not allow such a valuable asset to become weakened from a lack of regular meals. "Remember what I said about controlling your hunger." He smirked cruelly at Rey. "I suppose I should bring you something, too, Rey." All he received in return was a resentful glare. Ingrate...For that reason alone, Dario was tempted to serve _Rey_ as breakfast to Matanza.

Catrina linked arms with him. "Are you ready to go now?"

Inspiration struck unexpectedly. "Wait-I need to return to my office once more."

"Make it quick," she huffed.

Once inside his office, Dario headed straight for the liquor cabinet and grabbed a full bottle of whiskey and another, equally full bottle of bourbon. "Hold this," he ordered, shoving the whiskey into a frowning Catrina's arms. Since Dario had insisted she bring the stone along-"Just in case"-she was forced to tuck the alcohol under her arm in order to keep one hand free to travel with him. Meanwhile, he opened the secret compartment in the largest desk drawer to search for a favorite illicit pleasure, only to remember he had used up the last of his supply the other day. It was probably for the best, though: being haunted caused enough suffering without adding cocaine-fueled paranoia to the mix.

A lump formed in Dario's throat as he looked around his office for quite possibly the last time ever. His red rotary phone, that witty _I'M KIND OF A BIG DEAL_ name plate, the writing on the window declaring him the proprietor...He tried to commit every single detail in the room to memory-save for his bullet-riddled chair.

Dario sorted through the disheveled paperwork on his desk once more, but his search was in vain. Winter was probably sharing the list with his colleagues at that very moment...

"I'm done here," he sighed. Taking Catrina's hand felt a bit funny-and not just because of his conflicted feelings towards her. Her skin was always cool to the touch. Not cold in the corpse sense, but she definitely lacked the warmth of the living.

Dario was hungry again by the time they returned to Catrina's place. He fixed himself a second slice of buttered bread and added more orange juice to his cup. It was hardly a gourmet meal, but filling his stomach was more important than a five-star dining experience. It was also a relief to have liquor on hand again, because something told him he would need more than a few drinks to help get him through his time with Catrina.

She watched him from the other end of the kitchen table, impatiently drumming a row of nails painted the color of dried blood against the wooden surface. Her other hand contained the shrouded stone.

"Let's talk business, shall we?" she finally murmured, causing Dario's good mood to evaporate on the spot. But at least she had stopped making that irritating noise.

"Can't it wait until after I finish my breakfast?"

Catrina shrugged. "It could, but I'd rather not."

His forehead wrinkled in irritation. Was it too much to ask for a few minutes to eat in peace and quiet? As it was, just thinking of what Catrina probably wanted from him was starting to ruin his appetite.

"For a start, I want control of the Temple."

Dario knew that was coming, but it was a knife to the heart nonetheless. "Temporarily, you mean?"

She paused to set her magical rock down before answering. "Indefinitely. It is not safe for you to be seen in public right now-not until your killer is in his own grave. Perhaps not even then...After all, your body has disappeared from the crime scene." Dario's face crumbled as he read between the lines. He was cut off from most of the outside world for the foreseeable future. "Are you certain your murderer wasn't following orders when he shot you?"

He slowly shook his head. "I...I cannot say for sure, no." That was one of the questions that ate away at him-along with the nagging suspicion that his own father might been complicit in his death.

"Then there's a possibility other Order members might come after you to finish the job. I do not yet know if there is a limit on the number of times I can resurrect an individual." Catrina pointedly caressed the stone through its burgundy cloth covering. Meanwhile, Dario's heart skipped a beat. Until then, the possibility hadn't occurred to him. "It would be unfortunate for both of us if you were to die too many times and I could no longer bring you back."

Dario glowered at her in silence for a long time before he grudgingly admitted defeat. In the grand scheme of things, surrendering the Temple was a minor concession if he could go on living in return. Still, maybe he could turn up the charm and persuade Catrina to let him help run the Temple from behind the scenes, allowing him to continue playing a role in Lucha Underground...

"I don't want you filling my office with candles again," he said at last. "It took forever to get it aired out." That same waxy odor permeated the apartment, but it was almost tolerable since the candles had remained unlit so far. "And don't steal any of my brilliant ideas, either-like the Dial of Doom." He thought to himself that "Catrina's Dial of Doom" didn't have _quite_ the same ring to it.

She smirked. "This isn't a negotiation, Dario. I will decorate _my_ office however I wish. And you can keep your ideas, because I have better ones."

"I doubt that," he muttered in between bites, although he honestly felt she had done a good job of keeping the dark, violent vibe of the Temple intact during his previous absence. Dario regarded his nemesis suspiciously. "So, what else do you want? Something tells me you won't be content just to rule the Temple-and you could have done that without bringing me back." He mentally cursed himself for adding the last sentence, but he supposed Catrina wouldn't have bothered resurrecting him unless she had a legitimate reason to keep him alive.

"True," she agreed. "What I want-what I _need_ -is your expertise. I revived you because it is easier to talk with a confined human than a ghost who can come and go as he pleases."

"My expertise on what, exactly?" he asked warily, feeling like he had aged ten years since the conversation had begun. Between Catrina's demands, the ghosts, and the dangers still posed by the Order, his new life hardly seemed worth living so far. That didn't mean he was anxious to return to the Other Side, however.

"The Order." Dario gagged on the last of his orange juice and nearly spit it back into the cup. At first, he wondered if he had misheard her, but Catrina's next jaw-dropping announcement confirmed that he heard correctly. She leaned forward, hands clasped, and smiled at him in a conspiratorial manner. "You, Dario Cueto, are going to help me destroy them and prevent a supernatural war."

He hadn't been this shocked since Agent Winter had drawn his gun. For a minute or two, Dario could only gape at Catrina, goldfish-style. It was a real struggle to form a coherent reply.

"You can't be serious...How can you ask me to...Catrina, I..." He took a deep breath and started over, barely able to hear his own voice over his pounding pulse and the occasional ghostly whisper from out of nowhere. Dario tried to ignore the latter and focus on convincing Catrina to reconsider her insane plan. "You said you were familiar with the Order." She nodded. "If that's true, then you know exactly how powerful and dangerous they are. They're _everywhere_. You're crazy if you think either of us can stop them."

Catrina looked faintly bemused by his lecture. "Do you hear yourself, Dario? You are talking about the Order as if you no longer one of them. That means they have already made an enemy out of you."

"Those guys were never my friends," he conceded with a dismissive wave of the hand, "but we still share a common goal..."

Catrina arched her perfectly plucked brows. "I should think survival would be more important to you than bringing back Aztec gods."

 _Not just gods,_ he silently corrected her, and something told him _that_ discussion-the discussion he'd been putting off since she offered to help him search his office-was inevitable.

"I would not ask you to put yourself in physical danger," she clarified. "You merely need to answer my questions." Her dark eyes had developed a faraway look that made her companion more than a little uneasy. "I will be the one with their blood on my hands."

"How do you know so much about the Order, anyway-and why are you so determined to stop them?"

"You are not the only one with useful connections. As far as stopping the Order...There are very few people in this world I care about, and the Order has already tried to recruit some of them as vessels for the gods. That is a fate infinitely worse than death, and I wish to spare those individuals."

The potential "vessels" she referred to were obviously Mil Muertes and Jeremiah Crane, and Dario guessed that Fenix was the only other individual who truly meant something to Catrina. He could understand why she wanted to protect them.

"But you were eager to get the gauntlet after Mil won." He recalled how she had gleefully yanked the damned thing out of the box he was holding so she could deliver it to Mil personally.

She shrugged. "We have our own reasons for wanting the gauntlet-reasons that have nothing to do with acquiring the power of a god."

Her explanation put him on edge. What reasons might those be? Did she intend to use the gauntlet as a bargaining chip? It was a dangerous risk to take. He couldn't imagine anyone _not_ being seduced by the immense power flowing through the gauntlet from the first moment they touched it-including Cuerno.

"I understand if you need some time to think it over," continued Catrina, "but I cannot allow you to waste _too_ much time. Think about how the Order betrayed you-what they stole from you-and ask yourself if you are still willing to serve them." She waited a beat before adding enticingly, "Serve me instead, and I will protect you."

"And if I refuse? What then?" he asked belligerently, fighting the urge to make a snarky comment related to her last sentence.

"Then I either abandon you to the outside world or send you back to the Other Side." Dario gulped, certain his features reflected the sheer terror her threat had elicited. Either way, he would be confronted by countless enemies determined to torture and kill him-not necessarily in that order. Catrina stood and placed her palms firmly on the table, leaning further over it to glare daggers at him. "I will find a way to take down the Order with or without your help, but cooperating will ensure that you stay alive."

Dario slouched against his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "It sounds like I don't have much of a choice."

"There is always a choice-but I think you will agree that some options are better than others." Catrina's smile was so menacing that he shivered. "Choose wisely, Dario."

* * *

Black Lotus was looking for Dario Cueto.

Dario was going to pay with his life for what he had done. His lies had brainwashed Black Lotus into slaying an innocent man-a man who had been her friend and mentor. And those same lies had covered up Matanza's slaughter of her parents and village, denying his victims justice. She planned to strangle him in front of his brother's cell, leaving Matanza's human body to gradually starve to death.

It was the perfect plan: everyone she had lost due to the Cueto family would be avenged, and she could finally move on. But, having spent years fixated on revenge, she had no idea what to do once she fulfilled her life purpose...

Dario's office was dark, but there was just enough light in the Temple at this hour to determine that he wasn't inside. In that case, he was most likely visiting his brother-which meant Black Lotus wouldn't have to use force to bring him to the place where she planned to end his worthless life.

The black-attired Triad leader used her lock picking skills-in order to survive the Temple, one had to be prepared for _anything-_ to let herself into the room where Dario kept Matanza confined. Dario had once bragged to her about keeping Matanza under control with his "magic key," and there was probably an element of truth in what he said, but he failed to take more than the usual precautions with the door in front of the staircase that led to the cells.

Maybe that was because few people would dare to willingly come face to face with the monster.

She became pissed off when she realized that Dario wasn't there, either, and her presence made Matanza just as furious. He immediately rushed towards the bars and rattled them violently, emitting a long, low growl and a series of grunts. Black Lotus's back still throbbed from receiving the Wrath of the Gods on the Aztec seal last night, but she ignored her aches and pains and directed her steely gaze towards the cell where Dario had once imprisoned her. It was a reminder of yet another reason why the siblings deserved to suffer.

Nothing could have shocked her more than seeing Rey Mysterio inside.

"What the _hell_?" she gasped. "They abducted you?"

He nodded miserably. "You shouldn't be here. Dario just left, and he could come back at any second-"

"If he does, I'll murder him," Black Lotus muttered under her breath. Or maybe she would just lock him in Rey's cell and allow _both_ brothers to die of starvation. As far as she was concerned, Dario Cueto was an accessory to the murders of those she held dear, and the most suitable punishment for him-Matanza, too-was a gruesome and agonizing death.

But it wasn't the _only_ form of punishment, and she would have to take whatever revenge she could get until she figured out how to end Matanza once and for all.

"I'm still going to kill you, Matanza," she promised through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at the monster over her shoulder. "Just not today. But I _am_ going to do something that will hurt you..." She dashed over to Rey's cell, determined that he would be the last person either Matanza or Dario ever harmed.

"Go," she ordered Rey as she unlocked his cell door with the simple tools she had used on the main door earlier. Matanza let out a roar that seemed to shake the walls as Rey took a step towards freedom, but Black Lotus's resolve didn't falter for an instant. "Take your family and get as far away from the Temple as possible-and never look back."

"Thank you." Rey offered her a grateful smile, much to his rescuer's relief. She was _not_ a fan of hugs. His smile faded almost instantly, however. "Be careful, Lotus. Dario is gonna be furious if he finds out you were behind this, and now he's got Catrina on his side, too."

She blinked a few times. The surprises just kept on coming. " _C_ _atrina_? How did _that_ happen?" As far as she knew, there had been enough bad blood between Dario and Catrina to keep their feud going for decades.

Rey shrugged. "Beats me." They both jumped when Matanza snarled and attempted to pry apart the bars confining him. "Come on. Let's get out of here!"

She nodded and ushered him out, positioning herself between the two men and keeping her eyes locked on Matanza until she had backed out of the room. Only then did she sprint through the Temple behind Rey. One last howl of rage followed them as they raced down the stairs.

 _There's definitely something special about that key_ , she thought to herself. No ordinary jail cell could contain a god-not even a god stuck inside a human shell.

The two figures finally exited the building and were greeted with warm sunlight as they arrived at the parking lot. Black Lotus felt the tension drain from her body now that they were on the verge of leaving the property. Rey, on the other hand, looked hopeful at first, then cycled through confusion and dismay.

"Where's your car?" Black Lotus asked, guessing his dilemma.

He groaned. "Not here, that's for sure. Cueto probably paid someone to tow it."

 _That sounds like him. It wouldn't be the first time he's covered up a crime..._

"I'll drive you home," she volunteered, trying to redirect her thoughts away from her anguished past.

"Thanks. You know, Matanza said the strangest thing..." Rey commented as he followed her.

"What?" It was rare for him to say anything at all.

"He said Dario was dead."

"Dead?" Black Lotus stopped walking to stare at him in disbelief. Several seconds passed before her lips curved into a smirk. "Maybe he meant he doesn't have a soul." She already knew that Dario Cueto lacked a heart.

Rey smiled faintly as he shook his head. "No, I think he actually meant dead-or maybe undead. Whatever it was, Dario was pretty upset."

"Huh. That _is_ strange."

Black Lotus got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she slid behind the wheel. If Dario really had died, that could explain why Catrina was somehow involved with him. Both individuals had a history of manipulating others to accomplish their goals.

She was glad that Rey was free, of course, but she was beginning to regret being the one who had helped him escape. While she had gotten out of her previous obligations to Dario Cueto by taking a flight back to Hong Kong, there was no escaping or hiding from a vengeful, teleporting bitch like Catrina.

Her gaze landed on Rey while she started the engine. He was in the passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt. The legend looked so relieved to be out of that horrid cell that Black Lotus couldn't bring herself to inform him that he was in more danger than ever.

* * *

Catrina made a solo trip to the room housing Matanza and Rey Mysterio Jr. Dario was acting sulky and withdrawn after Catrina's ultimatum, and he didn't have any verbal objections when she offered to feed both his brother and their prisoner-at least, not after she reminded him how sensitive Matanza was to his moods.

Dario's eyes told a different story, however. They had become round with alarm and silently begged Catrina not to leave him behind. She realized then that he was frightened of being left alone should his mother or some other vengeful ghost from his past-and there were many, she was sure-make an appearance. She had vowed to be gone "but a minute" and disappeared with the food before Dario had a chance to respond.

She was annoyed that those haunted brown irises-which appeared even darker since dying, almost black in dim lighting-had earned him just a hint of pity from her. One would think that a man who had repeatedly been threatened with bodily harm by the living could handle dead people doing the same...

Matanza seemed...distressed when Catrina arrived. She frowned, wondering if he was upset because she hadn't brought his brother along or if something else was bothering him. He kept growling and shaking the bars.

"Hello, Matanza. Dario needed to get some rest, so he asked me to feed you."

His eyes were smoldering as she approached. She couldn't tell whether he was ready to tear the flesh from her bones or the clothes off her body. Both, perhaps. Catrina proceeded with caution, walking slowly up to the cell and sliding a plate of raw, bloody beef underneath before stepping back. Matanza's gaze remained glued to her face the entire time and he showed little interest in his meal.

There wasn't much he could do to Catrina, but that didn't stop her from heeding Dario's last minute warning to keep her distance. Staring into Matanza's eyes forced her to confront an uncomfortable truth: the two of them had something in common. Both of them had once been fully human and were now partly supernatural.

 _Still, I suppose it is better to be half ghost than half god..._

Fortunately for Catrina, she recalled that Rey needed to eat, too, and was able to forget her troubled thoughts. She turned to provide him with his own plate-Dario had reminded her with a smirk that bread without butter used to be considered prison food-and was astonished to see the door to Rey's cell wide open.

She frowned. If Mysterio could have escaped on his own, then surely he would have run away the first chance he got. The only logical explanation was that someone had freed him. But whom? She went over to Matanza, the only known witness.

"Where is Rey Mysterio?"

Hearing the name of his nemesis caused him to let out a deep, enraged rumble.

Her tone became cajoling and she smiled, hoping to put him at ease. "You can trust me, Matanza. Remember, Dario and I are friends now." Using that term to describe their deal left a bad taste in her mouth, but she needed to win over Matanza.

Catrina considered Mil the closest thing she had to a friend, and she supposed Jeremiah was something along those lines. Fenix had been more than that, and she didn't think she would ever stop mourning what they once had and what could have been. But Dario Cueto was a means to an end and nothing else, although he could also be considered her dependent for the time being...

To his credit, Matanza didn't look entirely convinced by Catrina's speech. He cocked his head slightly and studied his visitor intently.

"If you tell me who let Rey out, I will tell your brother-and he will do something about it." She had almost promised that Dario would bring Rey back and punish his rescuer, but suppose one or both managed to disappear without a trace. Making promises she couldn't keep would not endear her to Matanza. This way, the responsibility would fall squarely on Dario's shoulders.

He hesitated only a moment longer, apparently swayed by the idea of Dario taking action. "Black...Lotus."

Catrina's smile widened and she passed the bread plate underneath the younger Cueto's cell door as a reward. "Dario will be grateful for that information." It wasn't exactly a surprising revelation, since the other woman had attacked both brothers as well as repeatedly called Dario a liar only the night before. "I do hope we can become friends one day, Matanza," she added sweetly before vanishing.

She planned to share the juicy tidbits she had just uncovered with Dario in hopes that it would inspire him to spill the Order's secrets sooner rather than later, since betrayal was inevitable given his phobia of death.

That was prior to coming home to a sight that stunned her into forgetting Rey Mysterio's rescue by Black Lotus.

Dario was standing before the bookcase, his back to Catrina. Dangling from his right hand on a gold chain was her half of the broken Piedra Immortal amulet; the hollowed out book she had created to store the piece was open and balanced across his left palm. When the lights flickered, he yelped and whirled around in a panic. Although the book crashed to the floor, the chain mercifully remained clutched between his fingers. He managed to appear ashamed, but Catrina knew he only felt shame over getting caught. A man like Dario Cueto did not concern himself with morals.

"Find something interesting, Dario?"


	4. The List

"It's not what it looks like," Dario blurted out, heart thumping. He really had stumbled across the amulet by accident, but he feared Catrina would assume otherwise and punish him harshly. "I...I was just looking for something to read-to distract myself from the, uh, voices-when I saw that you had two of the same book." He smiled nervously, but Catrina's icy expression remained. "Naturally, I was curious as to why. I opened one of them and found the amulet."

She frowned slightly. "What makes you think it is an amulet?"

Dario wet his lips, still unable to believe how he had learned the truth. "I, uh, just assumed it was because of the Aztec design," he fibbed. He dared to run his fingers over the intricate pattern etched into the gold one last time before Catrina closed the distance between them, snatched the jewelry out of his hand, and secured the chain around her neck. The anger that flashed in her eyes when he touched the piece made him take a step back. Yes, he could still feel the magic emanating from the metal; it was warm and had hummed against his skin. With the exception of the gauntlet, he had never before sensed magic in an object by touch alone, but _everyone_ who held or wore the gauntlet was affected by its power. "Is it a family heirloom? What tribe are you descended from?"

Catrina appeared to be deep in thought. "I will answer your questions _if_ you tell me about your key."

Dario turned his attention towards the fallen book at his feet. He preferred to change the subject whenever anyone asked about his key, but Catrina was not one to be deterred-and he was stuck with her for the time being. He was also intrigued by the amulet and wanted the story behind it, yet he didn't trust her enough to share what little he knew in exchange.

He placed his hands on his hips and stared at Catrina, although he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "It's just the key to Matanza's cell."

She shook her head and smirked in a knowing manner that irked him. "You and I both know it is more than that." The woman took the object being debated between her fingertips, examined it, and let it fall back into place after several tense seconds. "No ordinary key is powerful enough to keep a _god_ imprisoned for long. Also, I have noticed that Matanza responds to your key the way Mil Muertes responds to my stone."

"I don't want to talk about it." Dario seized the key protectively, only to release it as suddenly as if the metal had burned him. He had indeed felt the same heat and vibration that he perceived in the amulet. His father had told him it was a "magic key" when he gifted it to his eldest son, and now Dario had proof of that.

His newfound ability to sense magic within items was as thrilling as it was baffling. Perhaps it had something to do with visiting the Other Side. He wished he could peruse the rest of Catrina's vast library to see if one of her books contained an explanation.

And speaking of Catrina...Her hazel eyes had widened slightly, then narrowed, while she watched him handle and discard the key. She backed away and stared at Dario like there had been a subtle change in his appearance and she was trying to figure out what was different.

"And I do not wish to discuss my...pendant," she declared after an uncomfortably long delay. She collected the hollowed out book, closed it, and returned it to its rightful home before switching to a new subject. "I suppose I should give you some more time to consider your options regarding the Order."

"What is there to consider?" Dario snapped, folding his arms across his chest. He had already done some reflecting on the topic, and it hadn't taken him long to arrive at the obvious conclusion. The Order would never take him back, and he could never trust them again-any of them. "More than anything, I want to live-and I'm a dead man if I refuse to help you. And, with the Order gone, I will have my freedom again." He made it sound like an easy decision, but he would pay a high price for his betrayal. Dario was turning his back on the secret society that he had dedicated his adult life to, which made his existence seem meaningless now. Far more tragic than a lack of purpose, however, was the realization that his father would be lost to him forever.

Catrina's grin had a definite smugness about it, and Dario knew there had never been any doubt in her mind that he would side with her.

 _Bitch._

"You made the right choice, Dario."

He tried to console himself by remembering that he would still have his life and brother, but there was a gaping hole in his heart that nothing could fill. Hell, he didn't even have control of the Temple anymore, either. Dario shut his eyes until he regained control of his emotions.

Catrina opened her mouth again to say something else, but Dario held up a hand to silence her, which earned him a glare. "Hold on, hold on...I need a drink first." _Or two...or more..._ Yes, it was still early, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

Dario marched into the kitchen and used the freezer's ice machine and a plastic cup to concoct a whiskey on the rocks. He brought the bottle with him and set it on the coffee table next to the wrapped stone and his red bull.

"Now I'm ready to talk." As ready as he would ever be, anyway. He made himself comfortable in the chair Catrina had claimed earlier while she waited for him to wake up. She sat down on the sofa and flipped her hair over her shoulders, which emphasized the ample cleavage spilling out of her sleeveless top. Dario suspected she was teasing him on purpose. He cleared his throat, trying to remember what they were supposed to be discussing. Right...The Order. "So, uh, what would you like to know?"

She didn't hesitate. "I want to know what went missing from your office-and why you were so frantic to find it. This item surely has something to do with the Order."

He nodded, already feeling like a traitor. _I can't believe I'm about to sell out the Order-and to_ Catrina, _of all people..._ To give himself the courage he needed, Dario took a generous sip of his drink and reminded himself that the group had turned on _him_ first.

"It's a list." What he was doing felt so wrong that the words would not come out easily at first. "The Order asked me to make a list of every woman in the Temple and narrow down the options."

Catrina's brows knit together. "' _Every_ woman'?" she echoed. "Including me, I suppose."

"Yes." Dario slowly released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Why?"

"Some members of the Order have been communicating with the Aztec deities." By various supernatural methods he declined to name because the details were irrelevant. "They say the goddesses are furious because they have been overlooked in favor of the gods. To appease them-the goddesses-the Order plans to bring them back as well."

The undead woman sitting across from him now wore a peculiar expression that conveyed something akin to dread or terror. She looked even more horrified than when he had first turned Matanza loose in the Temple.

"They are seeking more vessels," Catrina speculated in a husky voice just above a whisper. Seeing her in this state made Dario uncomfortable-maybe because showing fear made her seem nearly as alive and human as he was. She wrung her hands, then clasped them in her lap. "How do they intend to do it this time? Surely not another gauntlet."

Dario indulged in another, longer sip of whiskey and shook his head. "The winner of the match or tournament-whichever they decide on-will earn an...'enchanted' championship belt. If the experiment is successful, the Order will come for the other women who have proven themselves worthy." Their definition of "worthy" was a vicious individual not bound to a moral code-the same qualities the Order sought in prospective members.

"But I'm going to take you off the list before anyone else sees it," he assured her, assuming that was the reason she was so distraught. Dario should have known Catrina was including herself among those she wanted to protect from "a fate infinitely worse than death." He himself had no desire to join the ranks of the possessed, either. "You know, I don't think they'd choose you, anyway, because the Order prefers human hosts, and you're...something else."

Dario wasn't completely sure that Catrina had heard him. She stared past him, her pensive gaze resting on a random spot on the wall.

"What do you think happens to the souls who used to inhabit the host bodies?" she wondered out loud. She continued speaking before Dario had a chance to share his opinion. "Do you believe they become absorbed by the objects used to transfer the power-or do they turn into disembodied spirits who will never be at peace? Or perhaps part of the soul remains with the flesh but is suppressed by the deity."

"I've never really thought about it," Dario confessed uneasily, and returned to his drink once again. He had always been content with the knowledge that some part of Matanza was still around to protect him and maim his enemies.

Catrina brooded in silence for awhile. "We need not worry about the list," she said abruptly and with a burst of confidence-or was it arrogance? Her nails dug into the arm of the sofa as she spoke. "I have no loyalty whatsoever to the Order. Therefore, I will never allow such a thing to occur in _my_ Temple."

"Do not underestimate the Order, Catrina," Dario warned her, stung by her claim of ownership of the Temple. A wry smile spread across his face. "I did-and look what happened."

"The Order should not underestimate _me_ ," she retorted acidly. "I am not a frail human who is easily manipulated." Ironically, she looked somewhat weakened herself despite her bold words. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin defiantly. "There is nothing they can say or do to coerce me into doing their bidding."

He glared at her, wondering if she had meant to insult him or was just commenting on the condition of human beings in general.

"So...Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?"

She shook her head. Something was still...off about her, but Dario guessed she was just in shock after being informed about the Order's current ghastly obsession. "I think that is enough information for now-but remember, we are just getting started. There is so much more I wish to know, and I believe you have the answers I seek."

Dario hung his head. Four words ran through his mind, filling his head with doubts and regret: _What have I done?_ But he knew had only done what was necessary to ensure his survival-

"Dario?"

He glanced up at Catrina and was alarmed at how tired she suddenly appeared. But she was also smiling. She leaned her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes.

"As a reward for your cooperation, I am going to tell you a secret: when I visited your brother, I learned that Black Lotus helped Rey Mysterio escape."

* * *

Catrina's conversation with Dario had left her feeling drained-literally.

Experiencing intense negative emotions caused her energy levels to drop, so she tried to remain calm in order to conserve as much energy as possible after feeding. But it was impossible _not_ to panic-on the inside, at least-after learning that her worst fear might become a reality.

No, she did not fear the gods-but the possibility of being subjected to goddess possession _terrified_ her. Dario's desperation to retrieve the missing item-the list-finally made sense. He wanted to keep Catrina from losing her soul, lest she also lose her ability to bring him back from the dead.

She inhaled deeply, absorbing some of Dario's fury from the air as he ranted and paced the length of the living room. His emotions were heightened by the alcohol he had consumed as well as his fixation with creative-and violent-vengeance. Stealing a bit of his life essence helped, as did resting, but Catrina's spent body craved a more intimate form of energy.

"After last night, I should have known something like this would happen...I tell you, the next time I see Rey, I'm going to feed him to my brother! Black Lotus, too," he seethed. "Matanza will have the feast of a lifetime!"

"I expect he will do more than just feast on Black Lotus," Catrina remarked, recalling the lust that burned in the monster's eyes whenever she was around him. She was convinced that no woman was safe around Matanza.

Dario stopped pacing and shrugged, then picked up his cup and added more whiskey. "Probably." He rattled the remaining ice with a dark look on his face. "She should have thought of the consequences before breaking Rey out, but Lotus has always been impulsive and vengeful." After taking a sip, he studied Catrina for the first time since she had told him about the jailbreak. Whatever he saw etched in her features seemed to frighten him, and he hastily set the cup down. "No offense, but you don't look so good. What's wrong?"

Dario had lied about his key, and Catrina got the impression that he had also lied to her about how he knew the Piedra Immortal was an amulet. She saw no reason why she should be honest with him. She was embarrassed over having inadvertently revealed her biggest phobia earlier, and she had no intention of exposing more flaws to a man who might find a way to use them against her in the future.

"Nothing. I was just thinking that I need to get the gauntlet before the Order does. I must speak to Mil and come up with a plan." Yes...She would do both of those things-retrieving the gauntlet had taken on new urgency after what she had just learned from Dario-but her intentions were not entirely altruistic.

He was the only person she trusted to give her what she needed without expecting anything in return. Well, she _could_ ask for Dario's assistance, but she didn't want him to realize she had another weakness besides her possession phobia-or get the wrong idea about their...relationship. She slowly got to her feet.

"Do you have to go _now_?"

Catrina sighed. It seemed to her that Dario had become even more fearful and paranoid, not to mention somewhat clingy, after dying. She reminded herself that he was still adjusting-to the side effects of crossing over as well as the loss of his old life and his dreams for the future-and she needed to be patient with him. Or, at the very least, _try_ to have patience, for Dario sometimes got under her skin without meaning to.

"The sooner, the better. We cannot afford to waste time when it comes to the Order's wicked plans."

He could not-and did not-argue with her logic. "You _are_ going to bring the gauntlet back here, right?"

"I assure you that it will not fall into the wrong hands again," she replied enigmatically. It was absurd to think she would willingly hand Dario a source of infinite divine power when she needed him to rely on her.

"What does _that_ mean?" he demanded with a scowl.

Catrina came over, placed her hands firmly on Dario's shoulders, and leaned in close enough to brush her lips against his ear when she spoke. "It means that you need not worry about the gauntlet." He shivered while she drew additional strength from his conflicted feelings via direct contact. His instinctive reaction to her touch secretly pleased her; it contained just the right balance of fear and longing. She stood to her full height and glanced at the bookcase before looking down into that suspicious yet handsome face. There weren't many other activities to occupy the man's time-and keep him from snooping-whenever she wasn't around for company. "Feel free to read anything you want. I have nothing more to hide."

Those thick, black eyebrows of his shot upward. "Are you sure?"

Was he asking if it was all right to read her books or if she was hiding something else from him? She had objection to him reading as long as he was careful not to damage the books, and, while she _was_ keeping secrets, there were no more magical objects to find.

"Yes," she stated simply. A second later, she took a supernatural trip to the middle of Mil's living room. The Believers probably assumed both of them stayed in coffins like vampires from the old myths whenever they weren't at the Temple. The skull-covered throne that Mil had set upon in the Temple now graced his living room, however, and the rest of the apartment was decorated to reflect the darkness within Mil's soul.

"Mil?" Catrina's voice came out too quiet and she had to raise it to be heard. "Mil!" She heard heavy footsteps plodding in her direction.

"Catrina?" He appeared at the end of the hallway, shirtless and clad only in black pants. His bright red eyes shone with genuine concern for the woman who could never love him back as he approached her. "What is it, my love?"

She wished he wouldn't call her that. It made her feel guilty for what she was about to ask of him, but turning to Jeremiah or even Dario was _not_ an option. Dario would grant her request but never stop gloating about it, while Jeremiah would assume she had acted out of lust for him.

Teleporting while tired had made Catrina dizzy, and Mil caught her arm to steady her.

"I need a kiss."

Mil didn't hesitate to comply. He continued to hold the dark-haired beauty upright as he cupped her chin in his free hand and tilted her face upward. Catrina felt his lips brush against hers and instinctively deepened the kiss, greedily accepting every emotion he offered. As always when she came to him like this, she tasted plenty of worry and desire. Behind those feelings lurked growing amounts of rage and jealousy-likely triggered by Mil's suspicions about the reason behind Catrina's suffering.

Electrifying energy coursed throughout her body, racing from her lips to her toes and back again. She reluctantly pulled away from Mil with a grateful smile, feeling almost alive as a result. She hadn't felt this good since giving Dario the Lick of Death.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much better. Thank you."

He motioned for her to sit on the sofa and took a seat beside her, his immense frame causing the cushion to sink beneath him.

"Tell me who upset you and I will kill him."

Catrina smiled and traced the cross tattoo on his chest with her index finger. How like Mil to assume her emotional state had everything to do with a man. "Then perhaps you should kill King Cuerno-or at least distract him so that I may retrieve the gauntlet." Only she would be flattered by Mil's vow to fatally eliminate any and all romantic rivals. She also felt regret over her inability to return his devotion-and relief that he considered Jeremiah and Fenix his only threats at the moment. If Mil ever learned about the situation with Dario Cueto, there would be pieces of Dario scattered all over Boyle Heights before Catrina could even _think_ of restoring him to life.

He nodded in agreement, then glanced down at the amulet around her neck before meeting her eyes again. Mil knew why she wanted the gauntlet so badly, and he would stop at nothing to get it back for her.

Catrina was having second thoughts about trading the gauntlet for the rest of the Piedra Immortal, however-and not because doing so would be fatal to her mother. What if her present condition somehow made her immune to possession? It was a comforting thought, but she had no evidence to back up the theory-nor any proof that immortality made her more vulnerable to being possessed.

Her mother would receive the gauntlet no matter what, but Catrina thought it might be best if Mother held onto the other half of the amulet until the Order had been defeated.

She stayed awhile longer in order to work out the details of their plan with Mil. By the time she was ready to leave, she felt more alert and confident than ever. With the Temple under her control once again and both Mil Muertes and Matanza as her bodyguards, not even the Order would be foolish enough to threaten Catrina-let alone take action against her.

* * *

Although Agent Winter had the day off, he was still hard at work-but not on anything FBI-related.

Then again, the assignments he received from the Order didn't _feel_ like work. It was a joy to be surrounded by others who were equally committed to the destruction of humanity through the Aztec gods-and goddesses. They believed that those who did the Order's dirty work were the chosen ones destined to be spared by the deities, so he was free to sit back and enjoy watching the inevitable war unfold. Eventually. There was still much that needed to be done to bring about the end of days.

He was giddy on the inside as he poured himself a cup of black coffee and stirred in two spoonfuls of sugar, then retreated to the comfortable chair at the desk in his home office. Unlike Dario Cueto, Winter was no idiot. He hadn't left the list lying around where just anyone could find it. The Order member had to unlock the top desk drawer and move around some mundane paperwork to access the list.

Due to Dario's willingness to offer his employees up as sacrifices to the Aztec deities, Lucha Underground was mandatory viewing for those involved in with the Order, so Agent Winter was familiar with all of the names.

One name-an alias, technically-caught his eye in particular: _Sexy Star_. The champion of underdogs and defender of innocents...Winter shook his head and made a disapproving noise. A poor candidate indeed. Dario should have drawn a line through her name right after eliminating Brenda and Melissa Santos from the competition. Sexy Star was as worthless to the cause as that Barbie doll of a valet and the spunky-but-sweet ring announcer.

He sipped his coffee and chuckled, thinking to himself that maybe the only reason Dario hadn't done more editing was because he was too busy bleeding to death. Well, the FBI agent was all too happy to help Cueto complete his final assignment and reap the glory.

It shouldn't be long before reports of someone finding Dario's body started trickling in. In his experience, the stench of decomposing flesh traveled fast and far.

 _Good riddance._

Agent Winter returned to the list.

Sexy Star was rumored to be on her way out of Lucha Underground, but, if she chose to stick around, she would soon find herself in no condition to compete. Either someone within the Order could injure her in a sneak attack or the Temple's new proprietor could offer a generous cash bonus to any woman who took her out of commission prior to the tournament's start date. Problem solved.

It was a shame, though, because omitting Sexy Star meant there were only six competitors left, and seven was a number of great significance to the Aztecs...The seven tribes...Also, she _was_ Mexican...But a tournament called for an even number of entrants, and no one wanted to incur the goddesses' wrath by offering up an inferior specimen for possession.

Now, onto the rest...

Ivelisse was the self-proclaimed "Baddest Bitch in the Building," and she had proven many times over that she was as dangerous as she was feisty.

Taya...Taya _Valkyrie_ was the name she wrestled under elsewhere. But was she an actual harbinger of death or just a tough-as-nails human woman? Either way, she wasn't burdened with the morals he associated with the valkyries of Norse mythology.

Black Lotus was back, scary as hell-and she was the type of woman who would do whatever it took to get what she wanted.

Mariposa was as deranged and sadistic as her twisted brother. Since she had recently turned against Marty, it would be the perfect time to return to terrorizing others inside the ring.

It had been even longer since Kobra Moon had done more than manage and intervene in matches, but she had always been as cold-blooded and venomous as the reptilian luchadors she associated with.

Catrina had only wrestled one match-and lost-but the brutality she displayed against Ivelisse revealed her raw potential. The only issue was that she was more or less a ghost, but she still had a physical form...

An inspired Agent Winter removed a sheet of paper from the printer tray and grabbed a black pen out of the nearby pen holder. He sketched out two different tournaments for a bracket, one on the front of the page and one on the back. The former involved two three-way matches with a final match between the winners, while the latter centered around three singles matches, followed by a three-way to declare the champion.

He frowned and tapped the pen against the desk while he contemplated the possibilities. The first option meant the Order could begin the initial goddess possession process three weeks from the tournament's start date. The second would delay the project by another week, although it was better for Lucha Underground from a business perspective. Ultimately, it was up to his superiors to decide which idea was the best option and determine whom to pit against each other. They were also in charge of determining the goddess best suited to inhabit each luchadora, although he enjoyed speculating based on his extensive research on Aztec history.

Winter set aside the paper and placed a call to a _very_ important man within the Order. The two exchanged brief greetings-civil, but with no real warmth-before the ambitious agent launched into a recap of his accomplishments so far.

"I've come up with two different tournament ideas. Three names have been eliminated, and I think you'll agree that the rest of the women would all make ideal host bodies." He paused, feeling his lips stretch into a wide grin. "It won't be long until the Temple is full of goddesses."


	5. Secrets Never Last

Dario had consulted multiple books on death, dying, and the afterlife, but, so far, none of them had an explanation for how he had gained the unusual ability to detect magic following resurrection.

He had settled into Catrina's armchair while he read-or, more accurately, scanned. Her chair was black, not brown, leather, but it was just as comfortable as the one in his office and free of bullet holes, too. She would probably haul it off to the Temple when she reclaimed her former position... Dario added the latest book to the growing pile by his feet with a disappointed sigh.

If only he could talk to his father one more time...Dad might be an expert on anything and everything Aztec, but he also knew a great deal about the supernatural in general. Surely, he would be able to provide Dario with the answers to his questions.

The frustrated man rubbed his stinging eyes and stared at the ceiling while he did some more reflection. Dario still considered himself relatively ignorant about the long-term side effects of his brush with death. It was tempting to ask for Catrina's insight since she, too, had died-and was still dead, to some degree-but there were certain discoveries he was reluctant to share with her. His new "gift" was the main one.

Dario felt so isolated and lonely that he finished the last of his drink and almost got a refill to drown his pain. He changed his mind, however, because, as the seconds ticked by, he grew fearful that one of the spirits who taunted him from behind the veil would cross over. The last thing he needed right now was an inebriated confrontation with a hostile phantom!

More than anything, he craved the familiarity of the filthy, bloodstained Temple, but he could only visit with Catrina's help, and it was too risky to stick around more than a few minutes at a time. Dario supposed it was highly unlikely she would ever return the Temple to him, but it was only fair, given that he was helping her take down the Order...At the very least, maybe they could run it together. And, oh, what a glorious and destructive tag team Matanza and Mil Muertes would make!

Of course, Dario knew these ideas of his amounted to nothing more than wishful thinking. He and Catrina were only tolerating each other at best, and their monstrous counterparts would try to kill one another every chance they got.

It was a relief when Catrina popped back into the room. Something told him that even the restless spirits were afraid of her, because they were quieter in her presence-or maybe he was so distracted by her words and beauty that he just didn't pay them as much attention. Between that and the magical rock that could restore him back to life, he felt a hell of a lot safer with her around.

Catrina looked so full of vitality that, if he didn't know better, Dario would have assumed she had just woken up from a long nap. He sat up straighter, hoping to learn the reason behind her improved demeanor.

"You look...good. Well, I mean, you always look good," he added hastily, flustered. He didn't want to give Catrina the impression he was flirting with her, nor did he wish to insult the woman who held his life in her hands. "I just meant that you seem more like yourself again."

She smirked and sat on the edge of the coffee table, her boot-clad feet resting next to the discarded books. "I know what you meant. There is nothing quite like plotting revenge to boost one's spirits."

Dario smiled at the sentiment that he could easily hear himself saying. "Ah, but actually _getting_ revenge is even more exhilarating. Speaking of revenge...You aren't going to kill Cuerno, are you? Because he's one of the best luchadors in-"

"I have no intention of taking Cuerno's life," she informed him. Her eyes gleamed with malicious intent when she resumed speaking. "I would rather keep the hunter alive so that Mil may have the pleasure of torturing him again and again."

That was typical of Catrina-and Mil Muertes. Her chilling speech made Dario glad he had agreed to side with her against the Order. The undead woman was a formidable enemy.

"When are you going to get the gauntlet?" He hated to sound like he was nagging her about the gauntlet, but he knew that the Order hadn't forgotten about the gods and their original plans. The goddesses were just the icing on the metaphorical cake for them.

"Soon, but our plan requires the element of surprise. I thought I'd check on Cuerno on the way back and found him in his chair, keeping vigil over the gauntlet."

"You went inside his house?" If King Cuerno witnessed Catrina spying on him, he would never let his guard down again-not even long enough for her to snatch the gauntlet.

She shook her head and gave Dario a look that implied he should know better. "Of course not. I merely stood outside his window long enough to determine his location."

"I see...So, uh, what happened earlier? You looked exhausted-sick, even. But now..." Dario gestured to her perfect body and healthy complexion with one hand.

"Now I am back to normal," Catrina cut in, her harsh tone letting him know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't about to go into detail.

"Very well. I was just...concerned." Dario would be a hypocrite if he complained about Catrina's tendency to keep secrets from him, and he thought she must feel equally irritated whenever he refused to elaborate on topics of interest to her.

She nodded impassively. "I believe you. After all, your life depends on me."

He involuntarily clenched his fists upon being reminded of how helpless he had become. "True..." Once the Order was out of the picture, their fragile truce would dissolve, too, and they would no longer have to act civil. "If it's any consolation, I don't think you have to worry about playing host body since you are more or less a ghost." He had connected the dots earlier and believed that her exhausted state had been tied to the trauma of learning about "Project Goddesses."

Catrina looked understandably cynical. "Then why were you so intent on taking me off the list?"

He shrugged. "As a precaution. Also, you are a manager-not a wrestler." Truthfully, nobody in the Order knew for certain whether or not the body of a supernatural being could also house a god or goddess. With a surplus of potential human host bodies available for the gods, there was no need to select other species. They were, however, willing to experiment, especially with less women to choose from...After all, there was still some debate as to whether Cage was human or a cyborg, yet he still received the gauntlet and began absorbing its power.

"You must wonder why I fear possession when I am like a ghost, so I shall explain." Catrina averted her gaze to play with one of the rings she wore, and Dario grudgingly respected her for being courageous enough to show vulnerability in front of the enemy. Then again, they were now on the same page regarding the Order, so maybe they had ceased to be enemies. "Cage once grabbed me by the throat while I was holding the gauntlet," she confided quietly. "The magic within the gauntlet was powerful enough to prevent me from teleporting. Ever since then, I have wondered if the Order had access to other items that could do the same thing-or worse. If they can prevent me from escaping, they might be able to trap a goddess inside of me." Her haunted eyes finally sought his out, and the fear in those dark depths made him catch his breath. "As we both know, one can become possessed without dying."

Goosebumps formed on Dario's arms as he recalled Cage's uncontrollable violent outbursts and his gory murder of Councilman Delgado under the gauntlet's influence. He shuddered to think of the carnage that would ensue should Catrina-a woman whose entire existence revolved around death-become seized by an Aztec goddess. That disturbing thought inspired a silent vow to do everything in his power to keep her from becoming a vessel. Regardless of their history, their individual destinies were now intertwined. If a terrible fate befell one, the other would suffer as well.

Of course, he could do a hell of a lot more for her with an arsenal of dark objects at his disposal...

"If such an item exists, then nobody told me about it." Dario's tone projected a confidence he hoped would prove infectious. "Anyway, I assure you that it's nothing to stress over. Even if you _were_ somehow forced to compete, you could do such a poor job the Order would lose interest in you immediately...Or you could just wait here with me until the threat passes." _And protect me from all those who wish to kill me._

A rare smile graced Catrina's face and brightened her features. Although Dario had always found her dark and mysterious persona intriguing, he enjoyed glimpsing a different side of her.

"I will take your ideas under consideration." She picked up the books one by one and silently read each title, then formed a new, neater stack on the table beside her. "Either you are a fast reader or you have not yet found what you are looking for."

He shook his head, relieved that she had switched topics yet again. "Catrina...Am I... _different_ from the others you've brought back? Do I act differently?" Obviously, he wasn't unnaturally powerful like Mil Muertes, and, unlike the Disciples of Death, he didn't act zombie-like.

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "You so desperately cling to life that you have retained your identity and personality. The main change I have noticed is your connection to the dead." She squinted at him for a second. "Also, your eyes are almost black now."

"I thought they looked darker..." Dario had checked out his reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink earlier and seen the same thing, but he dismissed it a trauma-induced hallucination. He recalled how Mil Muertes's irises had changed color multiple times over the past few years. If Dario died and was revived again, maybe he would come back with jet black eyes...He thought that would be a good look on him.

The other change, of course, was his magical sixth sense-but that was going to be his little secret as long as Catrina remained oblivious. If only he could have acquired enhanced strength or speed-some kind of practical supernatural skill that would make him less of a sitting duck.

"Your new eye color suits you." He was still reeling from Catrina's compliment when her own eyes took on a mischievous glint. "I do believe you have one thing in common with the others I have raised from the grave...I am certain that I can control you with _this_ "-She tapped the stone once, then a second time-"just as I have used it to control the actions of Mil Muertes and the Disciples of Death."

Dario shook his head, filled with disbelief. "I don't believe you. If you could, you would have done so already." Why threaten him with death or abandonment if all she had to do to make him comply with her demands was use that earthquake rubble?

In the blink of an eye, Catrina was leaning over him, her lips dangerously close to his. Dario's heart hammered, but he was otherwise still as a statue while he tried to anticipate her next move. Was she about to kiss him? Lick him? Bite him, even? Her hand came up and he flinched, envisioning the time she had slapped him hard enough to knock him to the floor, but she merely cradled the left side of his face in her palm.

"The only reason I haven't," she murmured, her breath shockingly warm in contrast to her cool skin, "is because I enjoy playing mind games as much as you do." With that, she stepped away, smirking, and Dario swallowed a groan of disappointment. He had been tantalizingly close to being kissed by a gorgeous woman, and yet he should expected that Catrina would never have followed through. When it came to dealing with men, she was every bit as much a tease as a shrewd businesswoman. "I can see that you are still skeptical," she went on, "so allow me to prove it."

Dario shrank against the chair, his fingertips curling anxiously into its leather arms. "That won't be necessary..." But Catrina ignored his protest and reappeared in front of the window on the opposite wall.

He made the mistake of following the rock as she raised it above her head. Dario's eyes became glued to the enigmatic object mostly hidden in the folds of red cloth. What he could see of it was jagged and grayish-black in color. Its magic beckoned him to come closer, and he stood up without realizing what he was doing.

 _Co_ _me to me, Dario Cueto._

Catrina's lips didn't move in the slightest, but Dario heard her telepathic command inside his head as clearly as though she had spoken out loud. He moved in slow motion towards her in a kind of trance, unable to resist complying even if he wanted to-but every molecule of his being was currently driven to obey.

From his first step to the time he reached his destination, Dario remained transfixed by the relic that Catrina had gradually lowered. It wasn't until her arm was fully relaxed and at her side that the spell was broken. He blinked a few times in confusion and took a step back while he sorted out how and why he had crossed the living room.

 _Damn. She was right._

The smugness oozing from Catrina made him want to slap her, but fear of retaliation caused him to refrain from acting out his fantasy.

"Just as I expected," she said with a pleased expression.

"Maybe I _wanted_ to do it and was just-as you put it-playing mind games." Pointless though it may be, he relished throwing Catrina's own words into her face.

She laughed. "No, you didn't. I felt your resistance at first, but your will was ultimately no match for such power."

Dario's temper flared at the reminder. "Don't ever do that again," he snapped, more than a little freaked out by the amount of control this strange woman had over him. He was also aggravated with himself for continually allowing Catrina to get inside his head. Just when he thought he knew her every trick, she managed to surprise him.

"Don't give me a reason to and I won't," she countered.

* * *

"What are you researching?" Catrina noticed how Dario visibly relaxed when she deposited the stone near the small bull statue. She didn't believe that the bull had any connection to the supernatural world, but Dario's key was a different story entirely.

He shugged and turned back to the bookcase. "Just life-after-death experiences and side effects." Dario had avoided meeting her eyes ever since she exercised her mind control ability over him and spent the last several minutes poring over the titles in her home library.

She regarded him with renewed interest. "Beyond communing with the dead?" Dario failed to respond. Whatever was troubling him was something he wasn't ready to open up about.

A sigh fell from her lips. Their long and bitter rivalry continued to stand in the way of building much-needed trust. Catrina knew she was equally guilty of keeping secrets and evading questions that made her uncomfortable. She wondered what it would take to crack Dario's protective armor-and how she would ever feel comfortable opening up to him.

A second later, she had abandoned the sofa and was standing behind him. "Why consult books when I am right here?" He whirled around when he heard her voice coming from over his shoulder.

"I-I didn't want to bother you-although, as one of the undead, you no doubt have a unique perspective I could benefit from." Intrigue replaced fear and he cocked his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he was determined to solve. "How _did_ you end up trapped between life and death, anyway? I've never heard of such a thing before."

Now Catrina was the one reluctant to speak up. She didn't want to sicken herself by remembering the last moments of her life or dwelling on the heartbreak caused by her mother's sacrifice.

"I would tell you how I died," Dario volunteered with a smirk that bordered on a grimace, "but you were there when it happened."

Catrina stalked back to the sofa. "You once told me that we would be unstoppable if we worked together. It's ironic, then, that we are now on the same side-but our...issues are preventing us from reaching our full potential as a team."

"It doesn't help that we've hated each other for years," Dario pointed out reasonably. He deliberated over the books a minute longer before selecting one and coming over to sit next to her. "We're not going to get past those feelings overnight, you know."

"I suppose you would trust me more if I answered your question." Dario shrugged, and Catrina decided it was worth a try. She lifted the amulet away from her neck and held it out towards him so he could get a better look. "You are correct that this is both an ancient Aztec amulet and a family heirloom. It is one-half of something called a Piedra Immortal, and any woman from my bloodline who possesses it is blessed with immortality." She let go, comforted by the feel of the cold metal falling into place against her skin.

"An Immortal Stone," Dario breathed, clearly in awe over her revelation. "Impressive-but where's the other half?"

She really had nothing to lose by sharing that information with him. Dario couldn't possibly access the amulet's power to make _himself_ immortal. "My mother has it. The amulet broke when she used it to bring me back from the Other Side, leaving me only half alive. If she gives me the rest of the Piedra Immortal, I will be restored to life-but she will die."

Dario appeared panic-stricken, and Catrina rightly guessed that his self-preservation instincts had taken over. "What happens to your powers then? Teleporting? Raising the dead?"

"I assume they will disappear." She gave him a rueful smile. "But you still require my assistance and I am more likely to be possessed while fully corporeal, so I intend to remain in this wretched state until the Order is no more."

"Oh." The relief packed into that single word took years off of the Spaniard's face. "Personally, I don't think I would be able to give up such power."

"I know you wouldn't," agreed Catrina.

The two had much in common, but that was one thing they disagreed on vehemently. Dario struck her as someone who longed to be more than human, while Catrina would have been content to be a mere human again. Instead, he was still a human being-now cursed with abilities he disliked-and she had a chance at immortality.

"I do not expect you to tell me about your key in return," she continued. "But, if you change your mind, I promise that your secrets will be safe with me." She pressed her index finger to his lips, smiled again, and started to walk away.

"My father gave me this key when Matanza grew older and stronger," Dario said suddenly. Catrina stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around to give him her undivided attention. Her clever tactic had paid off already. Dario's gaze was locked on the key as he twirled it, and he rushed through the rest of his tale. "He said it was infused with a very powerful magic, and that I could use it to both lock my brother away and control his actions when he's out of his cell."

 _Infused with a very powerful magic._ Catrina would expect no less from the founding member of the Order, since dark objects were one of their specialties. But who was supplying them with such dangerous items? If she found out, she might be able to do _something_ to stop more of them from falling into the Order's hands-temporarily, at least.

Dario stared almost timidly into her face and raised his hands defensively, palms facing outward, when she did not respond verbally. "I swear I'm telling you the truth."

Catrina got the impression he was being sincere. He hadn't told her much that she didn't already know or suspect, but it was a step in the right direction. Sharing a piece of family history with his old nemesis meant slamming another door on his past. "I appreciate your honesty." Although expressing gratitude to Dario Cueto did not come naturally or easy to her, she did it because they needed to focus on the bigger picture. The Order was their mutual enemy, and they had to set aside their petty grievances if they were to defeat the Order before they started the ultimate war and dragged the two of them into the middle of it.

"Same here." Dario grinned and picked up the book again. Catrina opted to reach under the coffee table for the matchbox she kept on the shelf below.

He had just cracked open the book when he looked up and saw her with a match. "What are you doing?"

"Lighting candles. I find them soothing." After the morning she had-and considering her plans for later-Catrina needed to relax as much as possible in between. She knelt beside the table, matchbox in one hand and an unlit match dangling from her fingertips. Dario, meanwhile, was glowering at the candles like they had done something to him personally. "You don't like them?" she asked innocently, already knowing the answer.

"I hate them," he grumbled. "And the sun is out, so you don't really need them."

She knew that he was offended by the symbolism as opposed to the candles themselves. They represented a return to power for Catrina and Dario going into hiding all over again. It must be difficult for a man with his abusive history to hand over the reins to a woman.

Still, it was a shame that his obstinate side had resurfaced...She thought they had been making progress today.

"You might be my guest, but this is my home and I will light candles if I desire." She aimed a smirk at the indignant man and added in a seductive tone, "Personally, I think candles set a...romantic mood."

Something highly unusual happened while she was watching him glare daggers at her. Dario was clutching his key like he often did, but, for a split second, the brown disappeared from his eyes entirely, leaving nothing but the whites and pitch black irises, and the key actually glowed a mesmerizing, brilliant gold. Catrina's fingers trembled as she dashed the head of a match against the striking surface on the side of the box.

 _What was that about?_ she wondered uneasily.

Flame met wick, but the candle refused to light despite several attempts. It was odd, but Catrina didn't think much of it until she was unsuccessful at coaxing a flame out of the remaining candles on the coffee table. She even tried two more matches, both of which worked-but not when applied to candles.

"What's the matter with your candles?" Dario inquired. When Catrina glanced at him, she found that he looked equally perplexed by their failure to light.

"I have no idea." Catrina blew out the third match and stared at the candles for a long time. She mentally retraced the events proceeding the incident, which led to a troubling-and shocking-realization: Dario had somehow prevented the candle wicks from catching fire.

"You look like you've seen a ghost..." His eyes widened to comical proportions and he craned his neck, searching for evidence of dead visitors. "You haven't, have you?"

"No. If there were any ghosts here, you would have sensed their presence." Dario gave no indication that he had tried to perform a magical feat on purpose with the help of the key. He just sat there, stunned.

There was, however, an explanation for the bizarre occurrence that had nothing to do with spirits-and everything to do with what her mother had once told her about Señor Cueto. She mentally revisited that conversation, searching for evidence.

 _"Dario and Matanza's father is a collector of dark objects. It is said that he sealed the Temple with magic to prevent El Dragon Azteca from entering."_

Catrina shuddered as she applied her mother's statements to Dario's situation. _Im_ _possible. There would have been signs by now...A man so obsessed with power would not waste such a precious gift..._ But, if Catrina's theory turned out to be reality, then she had better go out of her way to stay on his good side. He just might be the only person capable of protecting her-and Mil, Jeremiah, and Fenix-from the Order and their persistent threat of Aztec deity possession.

"Did _you_ see any ghosts while I was gone?" she asked in a less-than-steady tone, hoping to redirect their conversation while she debated what to do. Her mother seemed to know more about the Cuetos than anyone, but how could she approach her without revealing the reason behind her curiosity? She had also promised not to spill Dario's secrets or location, and, if he ever found out that she had betrayed his confidentiality...For now, she thought it best to keep her suspicions to herself.

Dario shook his head. "No, thank the gods-and goddesses," he added belatedly, so as not to anger the female deities.

"It is difficult for spirits to cross over into our world without a personal connection or being summoned by magical means. A Ouija board, for example, or a spell to conjure the dead."

"Well, that's reassuring. Kind of." Dario's wrinkled nose and twisted lips made him look less than comforted.

Without thinking, she slid her hand over his. "I will not let that vile _thing_ you call your mother kill you. I need you, Dario." His skin was on the hot side and tingly, and she enjoyed putting her hands on him-and not just because his discomfort often amused her. With the obvious exception of Fenix, Dario gave off more life energy than anyone Catrina had ever encountered. His will to live-to survive-was exceptionally strong.

He stared at their touching hands for a long moment before smirking at her. "Under any other circumstances, that last sentence would be a real turn on." His cheeky remark surprised a laugh out of Catrina, and she finally withdrew her hand from his. It was just like Dario to interpret her words in a sexual way. He didn't even try to be covert whenever he admired her body. "We need each other," he added gravely, all traces of humor gone.

Catrina nodded in firm agreement.

* * *

"What's up with you?" Johnny asked Taya the morning after she'd learned their boss had been killed. He was so busy preparing for his morning run that she was surprised he even noticed her. "You look like you could use a few hours of sleep and something to eat."

 _More like seven or eight hours._ Taya had tossed and turned for most of the night, and, whenever she managed to fall asleep, she was soon jolted awake by a nightmare. Her hair was a tangled mess of curls after undoing last night's hairstyle, dark circles had formed under her eyes-and neither one had been in the mood for sex. She hadn't even changed out of her Ultima Lucha outfit. Johnny, naturally, looked flawless as always even in a simple ash gray T-shirt, black athletic pants, and running shoes.

"I'm not hungry." She was so tormented over the choice she had to make that the idea of food nauseated her. "Oh, and I tried to tell you last night," she snapped, only to stop mid-sentence in order to stifle a yawn. "I tried, but you were too upset to listen."

He gave her an incredulous look as he finished pulling his hair into a ponytail. "I just lost the Lucha Underground Championship-"

"And Dario lost his life!" Taya hadn't meant to blurt out her news like that, but Johnny's narcissistic tendencies were seriously trying her patience.

Her boyfriend gaped at her, eyes bulging. "Wait, what? Dario's dead?" He set his unopened water bottle down on the kitchen counter with a small bang. Taya nodded, relieved that she had finally gotten Johnny's full attention for a change.

She nodded. "I sensed that someone died at the end of the show, so of course I had to find out what happened." Taya thought it best to pretend PJ hadn't gotten involved. Johnny was already jealous of the supernatural-related bond they shared. "I was drawn to Dario's office, and, when I touched the door, I had a vision." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "He got shot-twice." It was a cold-blooded execution, not an accident or an impulsive act of violence.

"Shit," Johnny mumbled under his breath, although he didn't exactly sound shocked that Dario had died a violent death. "Who killed him?"

Taya shrugged. "I didn't recognize the guy." She gave him a condensed description of the murderer. "Sound familiar?" The valkyrie still wondered what had happened to her employer's body, which was why she left out that part of the story. Had his killer disposed of it elsewhere? Had Dario tried to crawl away after being shot, only to die of blood loss on the floor behind his desk? Had he gotten as far as the door before collapsing? She kind of regretted not going inside the office to look around, although keeping her distance from the crime scene was clearly the right decision.

Johnny shook his head. "Never seen him. Hey, why are you so upset, anyway? Cueto was an asshole."

Taya's lips twitched into a subdued smile. "You once told me he's the best boss you ever had."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, a lot has changed since then. Seriously, though, it wasn't like you were meant to take his soul to Valhalla or something."

"I know, but-"

"You should stay out of it, babe. God knows what kind of shady crap Dario's involved in...I don't want you getting mixed up in something that's gonna get you hurt or killed."

"That's exactly _why_ I need to do something!" the valkyrie protested, secretly wondering if Johnny mostly wanted to protect her so she could keep interfering in his matches and help him regain the belt. No, not even Johnny could be _that_ selfish. She started pacing back and forth across the cool, black marble tiles. "There are rumors going around the Temple that he is-was-trying to start some kind of supernatural war. Maybe even _Ragnorak_! What if his death won't stop what's coming? I have to tell Odin about this!"

"This is too heavy for me," Johnny complained with a toss of his head. " He had to be freaking out on the inside. "I'm gonna get my run in. We'll talk about this when I get back, okay?" She nodded reluctantly, knowing he needed time to process the new threats they faced-threats infinitely more horrific than anything Johnny could conjure in his worst nightmares. "Don't you dare do anything but eat breakfast and rest while I'm gone." He gave her a stern look that did nothing to convince Taya to follow orders. She readily offered Johnny her assistance as needed, but the only male she _always_ answered to was Odin.

Taya smiled and batted her false eyelashes at him. "I'll be good. Promise."

He smirked. "No, you won't. That's one of the things I love about you." They kissed, then Johnny grabbed his water bottle and disappeared. Taya listened to the front door click shut and lock behind him.

She stood in the kitchen for several minutes, frozen with indecision, until she remembered that her purse and cellphone were waiting on the table in the front hallway. She walked through the house toward her personal items on unsteady legs, and her heart began thumping as she searched her purse for a tiny slip of paper containing a phone number. It was crumpled at the bottom of a mountain of random stuff, greatly decreasing the odds that somebody else would come across it.

Taya had known that someday they would have this conversation, but now there was so much more at stake than an unsolved homicide. He was the only one she knew with the resources to investigate Dario Cueto's nefarious activities outside of lucha libre-and the incentive to relay his discoveries to Taya. She punched his cell number into her own phone and resumed pacing while she waited impatiently through two rings.

"Officer Reyes," her confidante answered in a tone that implied he was stressed or busy-or most likely both, given his true profession.

"It's Taya. Are you alone?"

"Hang on." He instantly sounded more alert now that he knew there was a harbinger of death on the other end of the line. The background noise consisting of different voices and ringing telephones gradually faded until all Taya could hear was his voice. "All right, what's up?"

"I thought you'd like to know that Dario Cueto was murdered." He fell silent for so long that Taya finally asked if he was still there.

"Yeah, I'm here," he muttered. "Damn...You didn't..."

"No, I didn't kill him." Dario had been both a sleazebag and a heartless bastard, but Taya had never even considered taking his life. The streets would be littered with bodies if she killed every man who had ever made creepy advances toward her. "I, um, know this because of my powers."

" _Oh._ Right..."

The two hadn't spoken a word to one another before the second member of the Crew died. Then Taya's valkyrie conscience had guilted her into tracking down the sole survivor to inform him of Mr. Cisco's murder, but he disappeared before she could-only to reappear when Veneno was stripped of his mask. She cornered him that night and told him the truth about both his friend and herself. Once she had convinced "Cortez Castro" she hadn't lost her mind by displaying her wings-and nearly made him jump out of his skin as a result-he decided to open up to her about his own identity and purpose in the Temple. Taya then offered to use her special abilities to help him solve the future murders that would inevitably occur in the Temple, and an unlikely partnership was formed on the spot.

Now it was time to make good on her vow.

She barged ahead, determined to use every trick she knew as a woman _and_ a valkyrie if she had to in order to get the information she wanted.

"I've heard that Dario is-uh, _was_ -involved in some evil supernatural plot, and I need to know what it is." Taya was confident that her next sentence would persuade Officer Reyes to bend-if not outright break-the rules for her. "And, in exchange, I'll tell you everything I know about his death."


	6. Toxic Families

Marie Vasquez, also known as Captain Vasquez, had her back to her daughter when the latter arrived at the police station. She was busy scrutinizing the Temple-related crime board she usually kept concealed behind a map of the city, but, by the time the lights came back on, she had turned around. Flickering lights nearly always preceded a visit by Catrina-or something else of a supernatural naturem. Her mother's youthful face registered first disappointment when she realized the younger woman wasn't holding the coveted gauntlet, then surprise at the ruined amulet she wore for a change.

Between her impeccable makeup and the light orange sweater with three-quarter length sleeves, no one would have guessed that the chief of police was over a thousand years old.

"You're late," she snapped. "I expected a visit from you last night." But what did time matter to the undead or someone "blessed" with immortality? It was only of the essence to Marie because she was trying to prevent the Order from bringing their savage plans for the Aztec gods to fruition.

"I was busy with...other things," was Catrina's frustratingly vague explanation. Marie had stepped away from the board, giving the former a clear view of the item that had captivated her mother. Mixed in with images of Lucha Underground alumni who had either died or disappeared was an enlarged, black and white photograph of Dario Cueto.

There was also a note pinned to the bottom edge of said photograph. The top line consisted of his first name and surname printed in capital letters. The caption scrawled underneath read simply, _DEAD?_

Catrina quickly averted her gaze. She then glanced up, apparently feeling Marie's dark eyes burning a hole in her, and seemed to realize that she was staring at the other half of the amulet. Only rarely did Catrina take the heirloom out in public-let alone wear it.

Marie cleared her throat. "I noticed that you don't have the gauntlet with you, so I'm going to assume Mil Muertes wasn't victorious." She returned to the chair behind her desk and steepled her fingers as she glared at her daughter in disapproval.

"Actually, Mother, Mil _did_ win the Gauntlet of the Gods match," hissed Catrina. "Unfortunately, King Cuerno decided to make his return at Ultima Lucha and leave with a trophy."

The older woman swore under her breath. "So, why haven't you gotten it back yet?" She couldn't fathom why the teleporting Catrina-a woman obsessed with the immortality she would gain in exchange for delivering the gauntlet to her mother-had wasted precious time hesitating.

It was a little disturbing, not to mention disheartening, that Catrina was so eager to trade her closest living relative's life for immortality, but, after over a thousand years of living, Marie was tired of this world and ready to move on to the next plane of existence. Although there were many deceased individuals she longed to be reunited with, she had been but a child when she lost her father, and, for that reason, she missed him most of all...But he would not forgive her if she didn't avert the bloodiest war in history before joining him on the Other Side.

Catrina crossed her arms over her chest. "Because I underestimated the hunter once, and I will _never_ make that mistake again. Cuerno shows no interest in wearing the gauntlet, yet he is keeping a watchful eye on it. I intend to check on him throughout the day and make my move when he is distracted."

"You'd better." Marie leaned forward, hands clasped. "Need I remind you that you will not receive the rest of the amulet"-Her eyes flicked towards the broken Piedra Immortal dangling from the gold chain around Catrina's neck, then upward to her face-"until you hold up your end of the bargain?"

"I still intend to bring you the gauntlet-but I want you to hold onto the Piedra Immortal for awhile longer." Catrina's voice sounded choked, like the request had been forced past her lips against her will. Marie was on alert instantly. It was rare for her to display more than the faintest hint of emotion.

Her mother leaned back in her chair, her forehead creased and her scarlet lips turning downward. "Why the sudden change of heart? I thought you wanted immortality more than anything." Certainly more than she wanted her last living parent in her life, anyway...

The undead woman looked almost frightened, which heightened Marie s own anxiety. "That was before I learned about the Order's plans to turn the women of Lucha Underground into goddess vessels-including me. I believe that my present state makes me less likely to become a victim."

Marie paled. "Where did you get this information? Did _he_ tell you that?" She jerked her head towards the picture of Dario, then smiled stiffly at the younger woman. "Don't think I didn't notice you staring at Cueto's picture earlier."

Catrina took longer than she should have to respond. "What makes you think Dario might be dead?"

Her mother rolled her eyes. "I have people on the inside, remember? They've confirmed that he was murdered last night-shot to death in his own office." It had been both a victory and a crushing blow for the captain. As she had told Reyes, she depended on Dario Cueto to lead them to their "real enemies"-the worst of the worst in the Order-and he wouldn't talk if he was either dead or locked up. Nonetheless, she found the mental image of that scumbag being executed in cold blood incredibly gratifying.

"How unfortunate for him," Catrina said with as much indifference as she could muster.

"You know what the _really_ interesting part of this story is, Catrina?" The woman who called herself Captain Vasquez these days leaned forward again, playing with a pen while she talked. "Cueto's body just...disappeared. He wasn't found anywhere in the Temple or the surrounding area. And, by a curious coincidence, you can both teleport _and_ raise the dead." Her gaze pinned Catrina to the floor, reminiscent of the look she had given her as a child whenever she wandered off or got into mischief. "So, why the hell did you save that slimy bastard?" It was inconceivable that Catrina would rescue her nemesis-unless she used her crafty mind to take advantage of the situation.

Her daughter gave a noncommittal shrug. "Maybe I did...Maybe I didn't. I have heard that Vampiro can also-"

"Don't blame this on Vampiro, Catrina," she interrupted angrily. "I know you're responsible, and I _demand"-_ Her clenched fist came down on the desk for emphasis, rattling an empty coffee cup nearby-"an explanation."

The woman in black smirked. She seemed to take a childish amusement in provoking her mother, who recalled that a young Catrina had been trouble personified. "You want the truth, Mother?" Marie nodded in exasperation. "Fine. Yes, I brought Dario back to life-and he is under my protection now. In exchange for me keeping him alive, he has agreed to help bring down the Order by revealing their secrets."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or horrified by what you've done," her mother declared after the long, awkward silence she needed to recover from her shock. "Where he is now? Gagged and tied to a chair?" Marie was hopeful that her mental image of Dario would match the reality of his confinement. He may ultimately prove useful to her investigation, but he was still a criminal and didn't deserve special privileges.

"I assure you that he will not escape, if that's what you are worried about. Also, it wasn't hard to persuade him since he was murdered by one of their men." Marie had to agree that, under the circumstances, Dario had a strong incentive to side with Catrina. She came closer and trailed her fingertips along the edge of the desk. "As you like to say: 'Fighting this war is more important than all of us.'"

That had been Marie's father's message to her when she was a little girl and he was on his deathbed. She fixed her own daughter with a piercing look in return. "Be careful, Catrina. In his own way, Dario Cueto is far more dangerous than the monsters you usually choose to surround yourself with. You have no idea where his loyalties lie. What if he's just playing you?" At least Catrina had both Mil Muertes and Jeremiah Crane wrapped around her little finger. Even if Dario _had_ completely severed ties with the Order, his loyalty would be to himself first and foremost. Still, she supposed it was a good omen that he had divulged the Order's goddess vessel plans to his enemy...And Catrina would surely learn some useful information about the man that she could blackmail him with if he failed to cooperate...

"You lost the right to give me motherly advice a long time ago," she replied with ice in her voice. Marie flinched at the slight. "Now, as far as Dario is concerned...I am convinced that _nothing_ matters to him more than survival-not even a certain doomsday cult or his own father."

"I sure hope you're right," Marie said wearily, and pressed her index fingers against her temples like their discussion had given her a headache. Catrina had always been overly confident regarding her ability to keep men in line, but Dario Cueto was a coward at heart, and his overwhelming interest in self-preservation could work in their favor. "I'm not happy that you've sided with him, but-"

"Like it or not, all three of us are on the same side now," Catrina reminded her. "We have a common enemy, and the Order is too powerful to vanquish unless we work together."

She waited while Marie lapsed into a contemplative silence, weighing her argument against her own hatred of, and suspicion towards, Dario Cueto. "You know something? You've got a point." Marie's hardened expression let Catrina know that she was still unhappy with her child's choice to fight alongside Dario in the ultimate battle against supernatural evil, and she was only going along for the ride because she was out of options. She sighed heavily. "Believe it or not, I would do _anything_ to protect you from those monsters. I don't want you becoming one of their sick experiments any more than you do."

Catrina's answering smile was brief but genuine. "I'm glad you feel that way, Mother." She looked like she was about to say something else when a peculiar-almost perturbed-expression crossed her normally stony face. The undead woman seemed to zone out for a minute, and her mother knew she was experiencing some side effect of her condition. Not for the first time, she was stung by guilt over the continued suffering she had caused Catrina in a naive attempt to resurrect her.

Marie watched her closely, brow furrowed. "Catrina? What's going on?"

"I must go." She flickered out of the police station before her mother could press her for the specifics, although the latter had a feeling Catrina's hasty departure had something to do with that Spanish creep...

The ancient Aztec woman inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath once she was alone again, then reached into her top desk drawer for her half of the Piedra Immortal. She stared pensively at the broken amulet resting in her palm, recalling how the whole had been bequeathed to her by her dying father. The two had had a special bond-the kind of connection Marie wished to have again with her only remaining child.

Every time she received a visit from her oldest daughter, she was reminded of how close they had once been-parents weren't supposed to play favorites, but Catrina had been hers-and how Catrina's death had severed the bond between them in ways Marie never could have predicted.

Two hundred years later, Catrina was still holding a grudge over her mother's botched resurrection attempt. And, two hundred years later, Marie was still resentful towards her daughter because she refused to forgive her. They had been reduced to mere business partners, working together despite their petty grievances because the threat of supernatural war loomed over them. And now Dario Cueto of all people was working for the Vasquez family, and the Order had invited the goddesses to join the gods in wreaking havoc.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know what other surprises life had in store for her.

With any luck, the Order's plans would be thwarted, Marie's sacrifice would enable Catrina to absolve her, and they could both some measure of peace while the world kept turning. She returned the Piedra Immortal to its temporary home in her desk and closed the drawer. Holding onto the rest of the amulet for safekeeping was about the only other thing she could do for Catrina that would please her.

Marie had already lost so much of her daughter that she refused to lose what was left of her to some bloodthirsty goddess.

* * *

Dario understood that Catrina had things she needed to do outside of her apartment-including important, anti-Order related things-but that didn't prevent him from being consumed by panic whenever she took off.

He was never _really_ alone, of course. The spirits were always there, and they made their presence felt despite being invisible.

After Catrina left to embark on her most recent-and unexplained-errand, Dario was forced to listen to Delgado call him a traitor for betraying the Order and "spitting on the Cueto family legacy" and been called a number of four-lettered words by Bael and Mr. Cisco, who vowed to "drag his skinny ass back" to the Other Side. He knew that Agent Winter, Black Lotus, and Rey Mysterio would join the chorus once he finally got his revenge against them.

"Tough words from two dead men without faces and one with holes in his head," he taunted them from the sofa, which only made them act more hostile towards them. But beneath Dario's smugness at having escaped the Other Side lurked tremendous fear, for his mother had been uncharacteristically silent.

That scared him more than anything.

"Shut up! Just shut up, all of you!" he finally exploded when more voices chimed in. Naturally, his outburst was a source of amusement for the spirits. Since he didn't know how long Catrina would be away, he began seeking an activity to immerse himself in as a distraction from the dead.

Lunch? He knew he should eat something to keep up his strength, but loneliness and stress had killed his appetite. Another drink? Probably not the best idea. More research? He had only the faintest idea where to begin. Dario fought the temptation to call his father and decided a little daydreaming might be exactly what he needed. It was important to start mapping out a future for himself that had nothing to do with Papa, the Order, Lucha Underground and the Temple, or Catrina.

Dario slid from a sitting position into a reclining pose, clasped his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes while he let his imagination run wild. Not having to answer to the Order and make matches opened up a world of possibilities. Among them, traveling the world, taking up hobbies, and finding a beautiful woman-or women-he could tie to his bed and use for his own corrupted version of pleasure.

He groaned. Thanks to the Order's never ending demands, he couldn't recall the last time he had enjoyed a sordid encounter with a woman. The closest he got was receiving the Lick of Death, and Catrina had only agreed to it because he had actually died.

Dario turned his thoughts away from sexy women and the depraved things he fantasized about doing to them. There was Matanza to consider as well. He would go wherever his older brother decided to put down roots, but he would also be miserable without a steady stream of victims to terrorize and maul. He thrived on violence and chaos as much as Dario did-if not more.

No wonder Dario was struggling to imagine a new lifestyle for himself...Nothing compared to the excitement he felt over taking part in the Order's supernatural projects or while working at the Temple. That constant adrenaline rush made him feel alive.

He lay there awhile in a state of depression, trying in vain to block out the noisy spirits and calm his racing thoughts. Dario shivered as a light breeze came out of nowhere and sudden cold seeped into his bones. He listened for the hum of the air conditioner, only to realize it hadn't kicked in.

Dario's pulse quickened as he began to suspect he had a ghostly visitor. _Please be Catrina,_ he prayed. But, before he could open his eyes to investigate, a burning sensation erupted across the left side of his face. He yelped and his eyes popped open before he gingerly touched the affected area. His skin was wet, and, when Dario looked up to see Mama leaning over him, grinning like a lunatic, he observed that the fingernails of her right hand were red with blood.

 _His_ blood.

"I think it's time for a family reunion," she sneered in her native tongue. Mama had been pretty once, but now Dario thought her hideous.

He was frozen with dread and too shocked to react when the ghost grabbed him by the neck and hauled him off the sofa. Dario landed awkwardly on the carpet, the back of his head taking the brunt of the impact, but the fabric didn't do much to cushion his fall. Although he tried to pull himself up using the coffee table for support, his mother moved so quickly and smoothly he never had a chance. She stood over her petrified son, straddling him, and wrapped her hands around his throat.

"You're right to fear death, Dario, because what I-what _we_ -have planned for you is so much worse than anything you can imagine."

Dario gasped loudly, thinking to himself that a spirit shouldn't be-couldn't be-so _strong_. But, if the crushing pressure on his throat was any indication, she was indeed strong enough to drag him back to the grave.

 _I won't die a victim_ , he vowed, casting off the last of his shock and taking action.

He fought back with a vengeance, first pulling at his mother's wrists, then striking out at her face and clawing her eyes, but the result was always the same: His hands went straight through her like she was made of air.

"Stupid boy," she laughed, then slammed his head against the floor a second time. He nearly blacked out on the spot but struggled to remain conscious.

At the same time, Dario continued gagging and choking as he was being strangled to death. He clutched helplessly at his throat over the areas where his mother was squeezing. A gray haze overtook his vision, gradually blotting out everything but his mother's demented face and an army of hostile ghosts, all of whom seemed determined to bring him back to the Other Side-and keep him there. He could see what was left of the spirits who had been harassing him earlier, as well as Big Ryck and El Dragon Azteca. There were also plenty of mutilated, young male faces he couldn't place but suspected were Matanza's victims from the "other" Temple. Some of the souls were even cheering on the twisted bitch in her quest to murder her own son.

Not even the excruciating pain he was being subjected to could make him welcome death after such a chilling experience.

The gray mist was becoming thicker and darker, transforming into the suffocating black nothingness he had been plunged into shortly after being shot. All he could see were the faces-and, in some cases, just the remains of facial features. Dario's eyes teared up in agony.

"Any last words?" his mother asked in a deceptively sweet tone. She then made the mistake of loosening her grip a fraction of an inch-just enough for Dario to suck in a breath and stammer out a single word.

"Ca-trina..." It was barely a whisper and he wasn't sure his message would even reach her, but she was his last hope.

It was much too dark now to see the lights dim or witness his savior coming to his aid. He was incredibly relieved, however, to hear the hateful woman's startled cry and see a pair of hands yank her away from him by the hair, and he definitely felt her hands leave his neck.

A welcome burst of air rushed into his lungs, and Dario gulped oxygen like a swimmer who had been underwater too long and finally surfaced. The darkness that had threatened to close in on him was already beginning to fade. Dario was incredibly grateful to discover that Catrina had placed herself between him and his would-be murderer. He couldn't have felt safer if Matanza was guarding him.

Mama addressed Catrina in a fury. "My son belongs in the grave, and I'll keep coming back until he's dead!"

"You've already done more than enough damage to him, _bitch_ ," Catrina spat in English. "Touch him again and I will destroy what's left of you." Since Dario's mother only spoke Spanish, the exact meaning was lost on her, but her uneasy look in response to Catrina's icy tone told him that she perceived the undead woman as a legitimate threat. He wished he could see Catrina's menacing expression, but her back was to him.

The last of the shadows finally dissolved, taking with them his evil mother and all of her dead supporters.

Catrina helped Dario back onto the sofa, then left him alone, still coughing and struggling to breathe, while she headed to the kitchen. He heard water running, and she returned carrying a plastic cup that was almost full to the brim. She waited for the worst of his fit to subside before handing it to him. Inside was chemical-laden tap water-a far cry from the imported bottled version that Dario preferred-and he forced himself to gulp some of the liquid even though it seared his throat on the way down.

"Thank you," he managed to get out in a raspy tone once he trusted his voice to work. _Again._

"I gave you my word that I would not let her kill you, and I intend to keep my promise."

"The gauntlet?" he panted after he soothed his throat with more water. He must remember to add his preferred brand of bottled water to his next grocery list...

"Still by Cuerno's side, to my dismay." Dario gave her a questioning look as he rubbed the thin layer of skin covering his throat. It would probably be awhile before he was able to speak normally. She waved a manicured hand. "Don't worry about it. You should focus on recovering."

Dario nodded reluctantly, and Catrina perched on the arm of the sofa behind his head. She reached down and stroked his hair while they both waited for him to stop coughing. He didn't even bother to pull away from her touch. Catrina wasn't a believer in the concept of personal space.

The way she treated him was confusing, to say the least. There was something almost motherly in her manner now, but she had behaved as intimately as a lover earlier when their lips had nearly connected. At other times, she was strictly business, and provoking her usually brought out her inner ice queen.

He was just glad she was no longer screaming at him like a banshee or physically assaulting him like she had done on occasion at the Temple. That, it seemed, was a role best suited to Mama.

"Poor Dario," she murmured, still running her fingers through his hair while he sipped water. "It seems like everyone wants to kill you."

"Except you," he croaked out, beginning to relax again.

"Those days are over now-I hope." Her tone was cautiously optimistic.

He nodded in firm agreement even though doing so increased his pain. Dario _really_ didn't need or want yet another enemy.

They sat in silence for awhile until he had finished the water and his discomfort had diminished to the point that he regained his ability to speak. He used one hand to continue rubbing his tender throat while applying pressure to the scratch marks on his face with the other.

"How were you able to touch her?"

"Being half-ghost has its advantages." She slowly shook her head as she surveyed the damage to his neck and face. "What am I going to do with you? There are many individuals on the outside who wish you harm, and many vengeful spirits anxious to get you alone."

 _Whatever you do, don't leave me alone,_ Dario beseeched her silently. _Not even for a few minutes._ But he knew his request was impractical. How would Catrina explain to Mil Muertes why Dario was tagging along with her when she met with him? And she would have to return to work at the Temple eventually-a place all but forbidden to Dario until the Order had been eliminated. He shrugged in reply, having no suggestions for her.

"Unfortunately, I cannot take you everywhere I go." For all Dario knew, she was capable of reading his mind and had just taken a peek at his thoughts. After a long pause, Catrina spoke in a decisive tone. "You need to learn to defend yourself."

"How am I supposed to fend off a ghost?" he demanded. Dario felt utterly useless in this situation. He couldn't hide behind Matanza like he usually did whenever he was in danger, and calling on Catrina to scare away his dead enemies was shameful to him as well as inconvenient for her. It had also proven nearly impossible to do with his mother's hands around his throat.

Catrina stared at him as if she couldn't believe he could be so dense. "With magic, of course."

A lightbulb went on inside his brain. "The key."

She nodded. "I saw something...unusual when we were talking about the candles. Your key actually _glowed_ while you were holding it."

"'Glowed'?" He inspected the topic of their discussion for any unusual signs, but it just looked like an ordinary-albeit oversized-key.

"Yes, and your eyes also turned black. This was after you said you wished I wouldn't light the candles-and just before they failed to catch fire." Her hands now rested on his shoulders. "I am convinced that you can perform magic through that key of yours-and possibly without it."

Dario went rigid, but he suddenly felt lightheaded and had to shut his eyes to keep the room from spinning. It wasn't exactly a revelation that his key could be used like a dark object, but Catrina had just implied that he had some kind of intrinsic connection to magic. He was still trying to come to terms with his new gift of magic detection; the idea of performing supernatural feats on his own was incomprehensible.

But how could he possess such greatness without even knowing about it? And what did dying and being resurrected have to do with these alleged latent talents suddenly surfacing?

A long forgotten-or perhaps it was actually long _suppressed_ -memory sprang to mind. It was a bewildering, fragmented glimpse into the first days after his father had returned to Spain to parent his wild, half-orphaned sons.

Dario saw himself confined to bed with a raging fever...He felt both the weight and the coolness of a large metal object as it was placed on his forehead...He heard his father admonish him not to touch or move the item, followed by soft, persistent chanting in an unknown language while Papa sat in a wooden chair next to the bed..

"You remembered something, didn't you?" Catrina interjected when he sat up abruptly. "Something about this." She reached down and tapped the key.

"Yes, but I can't make sense of it," he mumbled, and thinking about how the key had first entered his life triggered a second flashback. He recalled how lost he had felt when Johnny Mundo stole it. _Empty_ , almost. It wasn't until the key was hanging safely around his neck again that he felt whole.

Catrina was right that he needed to learn how to deliberately tap into the power within his key-and determine if he indeed was blessed with magic from within. What if doing so could protect him-and maybe even protect her, too? "If I could just talk to my dad-"

"No." She shook her head insistently. "That is a risk you can't afford to take. You must never have contact with him again."

He closed his eyes wearily. "I know, I know." When he opened them again, he observed a disconcerting change in Catrina's features. She was visibly angry.

"A man like him-a man who values power more than his own sons-does not deserve either your love or loyalty."

"Well, nobody's perfect," Dario answered with a shrug and a resigned smile. "But he's the only family I have left besides Matanza." Dario had always been Papa's favorite, a fact which made him doubt that his father had anything to do with his murder.

"All _I_ have is my mother-but we are not close and rarely speak." Catrina left her spot on the sofa and motioned for him to follow her down the hallway. "You should probably clean those wounds." Dario followed, wanting to ask what had led to the rift between Catrina and her mother-a woman who had seemingly loved her daughter enough to try to bring her back from the dead-but it was none of his business. He kept his lips pressed together, more conscious of his stinging face now that his neck was healing.

The bathroom mirror revealed the extent of his injuries. His reflection proved such a ghastly sight that he cringed when confronted with it. Four gashes ran the length of his left cheek, stretching diagonally from his cheekbone to the outer corner of his lips. The assault had also left behind hand prints on his neck and caused multiple burst blood vessels in the whites of his eyes. He slowly turned to one side, then the other, noting the small, bloody crescent moons towards the back of his neck where his mother's nails had dug into his flesh. To top it off, he had a dull headache at the back of his skull where it had been bounced off the floor.

How could an entity without a body inflict so much harm on the living?

With a shudder, Dario accepted the hot, soapy washcloth Catrina had prepared for him while he was taking inventory. She kind of looked like she wanted to clean the scratches herself, but she left him to it.

"Do you think it's going to scar?" he wondered out loud, wincing as he pressed the washcloth to his wounds. It was superficial damage at best, done in haste, but he knew that his mother would accept disfiguring him as a consolation prize until she succeeded at her ultimate goal.

Catrina shrugged. "You would no less handsome if it did."

Dario's startled eyes met hers in the mirror, and his tight lips instantly rearranged themselves into a smirk. She was right, of course, but receiving praise from a longtime nemesis was surreal. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to random acts of kindness from someone with her reputation-but he had no complaints.

"Yes, I know," he answered vainly. "I intend to wear my battle wounds with pride." He was a survivor, having lived through two attempts on his life by his own mother and the bullets from Agent Winter's gun, but he credited his survival to first Matanza and then Catrina. Without their intervention, he would either be rotting in a grave or reduced to ashes..."You're not going anywhere else today, are you?" He hated to ask as much as he hated the edgy, whiny inflection he spoke with.

"Not for awhile." Her expression conveyed understanding, then turned thoughtful. She rested her chin on his right shoulder, and one hand came up to lightly grip the corresponding bicep. Catrina's hazel eyes locked with Dario's blackish orbs as they watched their reflections. "I was thinking that I could help you look through my books and learn more about magic-if you're interested, that is."

He nodded, relieved that he wasn't about to be abandoned right away. "I'd like that." After being attacked twice in less than twenty-four hours, Dario had concluded that learning magic-based self-defense was every bit as important as putting an end to the Order.

* * *

The sleeping young woman was jolted awake by a shrill, insistent buzzing, followed by three loud bangs.

She groaned as she lifted her head from one of the old, yellowed books she had been studying and massaged her stiff neck. The doorbell rang yet again before she was alert enough to realize she had a visitor. It was probably her father or someone else from the Order. She turned off the lamp, then stepped away from her desk.

Afterward, she hastily smoothed the wrinkles from her sleeveless black top and red skirt, then ran a hand over her long, scarlet-streaked black tresses in order to make herself presentable. A quick glimpse in the mirror mounted on the back of her bedroom door revealed a visibly exhausted twenty-something. Her brick red lipstick and cat eye makeup were mildly smudged, but the gold stud that adorned her left nostril was was still in place.

"Coming!" she yelled in an accent developed from being born and raised in Mexico, taking care not to trip as she descended the spiral staircase. Although she could easily afford a houseful of servants to take care of such menial tasks, she was up to her eyeballs in malevolent, secret supernatural projects and would rather not risk an outsider uncovering her agenda.

The woman, who was five-three-and-a-half without shoes, stood on tiptoe and peered through the peephole. Her brown eyes widened when she realized who was waiting on the other side of the door. The bald man standing on her doorstep had brown skin much darker than her medium olive coloring and wore a white dress shirt and either navy or black pants. His was a familiar face.

Agent Winter's unexpected arrival elicited a frown from the homeowner. She had only interacted with the man a handful of times, and their communication had been restricted to phone calls and the occasional supervised visit in the back of a limousine. It was kind of creepy that he knew where she lived-although it wouldn't be difficult for someone in the Order to use his vast resources and connections to find out-but she wasn't scared. She was more than capable of defending herself if need be, and no Order member would dare to mess with her, anyway-except for that stupid councilman, Lawrence Delgado, who had since gotten himself killed.

She unlocked and yanked open the front door, eyes narrowed in disdain. "What are you doing here-and how did you get my address?"

He chuckled, unaffected by her sour mood. "It's nice to see you, too, Gabriela. And, for your information, your father told me where you live. He's been trying to call you all morning. May I come in?" Gabriela shrugged and stepped aside, allowing him to enter the front hallway before shutting the door. He nodded his approval as he eyed her abundant art collection and the expensive furniture and decor with a gothic flair. "Nice place you've got."

"Thanks." Gabriela's response was tinged with irritation from too little sleep and missing breakfast. "I turned my phone off after I talked to my father last night," she explained, and had to pause to stifle a yawn before continuing. She hadn't bothered to check the time yet, but, judging by the amount of sunlight streaming into her living room, she estimated that it was either late morning or early afternoon. "I was up most of the night trying to figure out how to get the gauntlet back."

Agent Winter broke into a grin. "Well, your dad's gonna be relieved to hear you're alive and well. He was real worried about you." The young woman waited while her guest placed a call on his cellphone, impatiently shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Your daughter's fine. She just stayed up too late doing research and overslept." Gabriela rolled her eyes. The men in her life treated her like an irresponsible teenager at times, even though she was twenty-five and had been proving her worth to the Order since before she even became an adult. "Not yet...Yes, I will...Bye." He slipped the phone back into his pocket and gave her a look that meant business. "So, _did_ you come up with a solution to the gauntlet problem?"

"I'm still working on it." She finally noticed the manilla envelope tucked under one of his arms and pointed to it, forgetting that she was about to inquire why her father had been so intent on contacting her. "What's that?"

He passed the envelope to her. "It's the other reason your dad asked me to stop by. Just a little something you-and the goddesses-might be interested in."

His reference to goddesses perked Gabriela up. She excitedly withdrew the contents-two sheets of paper-and examined the papers one at a time. The top sheet contained a list of the women employed by Lucha Underground. Someone had drawn a line through three of the names. "There are only six luchadoras on this list." Adrenaline flooded her system as inspiration came to her. "The Aztec goddesses would no doubt prefer seven-and I know just where to find-"

" _No_ ," Agent Winter interrupted with a stern glare, causing Gabriela's head to snap up indignantly. He must have seen her eyes glittering and the grin slowly spreading across her face. "Don't even _think_ about it, Gabriela. You know your father's gonna find out one way or another."

Gabriela found herself sulking over her father's hypocrisy, and, as a result, her voice rang out with defiance. "I'm a grown woman, and if I want to let a goddess take control of me, I should have that right. It's _my_ body." She sighed dramatically, remembering the volatile argument that had followed her announcement. "But, since Papa vowed to kill me and free the goddess if I did, I guess I'm lucky that I'm still allowed to work on the project." As she gestured to the papers, she reminded herself that there were many ways she could alter her appearance in order to maintain her anonymity in the Temple. There were also other paths to becoming a goddess that didn't involve the use of dark objects. She wasn't ready to give up on her dream just yet.

The FBI agent shook his head. "I'm surprised he's letting you anywhere _near_ the gauntlet...Then again, your family's always been obsessed with power."

"Isn't everyone in the Order?" Gabriela glanced at the second page and promptly dismissed the ideas it contained with a "Hmm" and a shake of her head. "I assume Dario came up with these, since they're similar to other tournaments he's done in the past." She laughed and slid the papers back into the envelope, then returned the entire package to her visitor. "I was hoping for something more...'unique' from him."

"I suppose you have a better idea." Winter's expression was neutral and his features bland, but-if Gabriela wasn't mistaken-there was a touch of defensiveness in his tone.

She nodded, having already given the subject some thought. "I want to see something truly sadistic, like a single Last Luchadora Standing elimination match. A tournament would only drag things out, and the goddesses don't have the patience for that. They've been waiting long enough as it is." She knew better than anyone what the goddesses wanted, since she was the one who had initiated contact with them in the first place-and they had remained in touch ever since.

Agent Winter's grin returned. "I like the way you think. You know, sometimes I think you would do a better job at running the Temple than Dario ever could."

His praise made Gabriela blush. "I agree, but we both know it'll never happen." She knew her destiny was to continue advancing the Order's cause from behind the scenes, but, if she _were_ in charge, Mil Muertes would be on his way to becoming a god right now and the first goddess would arrive shortly.

He shrugged. "Never say never." The male Order member cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You sure the belt will work on all of them? Catrina's definitely not human, and I have my doubts about some of the other girls..."

"With magic, there's _always_ a loophole," insisted Gabriela with a sly smile. She wasn't worried in the slightest.

"I'll take your word for it." Winter offered his hand to shake and she accepted it. "I should get going. I don't want to keep you from your work." He turned to leave, but she stopped him with a hand on his sleeve, having just remembered the question she had intended to ask when he first entered her home.

"You said my father was worried when I didn't answer my phone. Why? I just talked to him right after Ultima Lucha." That was when he had broken the news about Cuerno's theft and commanded her to get the gauntlet from the hunter by any means necessary.

Winter sighed and scratched the top of his head, like was reluctant to have this conversation with her. "Look, I didn't want to upset you because there's probably a good explanation, but, since you asked...Your brother hasn't been picking up his phone, either-at home _or_ at work. He didn't call your father last night like he promised, and, when your dad couldn't get a hold of him this morning, he called you to make sure you were okay-only you didn't answer, either." He shook his head. "You two are driving the poor man crazy."

Gabriela shuddered as her intuition began conjuring up sinister possibilities: murder, abduction, going into hiding to evade one or more of his numerous enemies. "Something bad must have happened to him."

He looked taken aback by her statement. "What makes you think that? You don't even _know_ the guy."

She gave him a hard look. "True, but I do know that he loves our father and would never do anything to hurt him." Gabriela secretly resented their closeness because it infringed on _her_ time with their father. She had been raised like an only child and disliked sharing him with her older siblings.

The man shrugged. "He probably just passed out, same as you. He _was_ drinking pretty heavily the last time I saw him..." A frown crossed his face. "Although..."

"Although what?" she prompted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"If anything did happen to Dario, Black Lotus was probably responsible. She returned at Ultima Lucha, attacked both your brothers, and called Dario a liar." Gabriela's jaw started to fall open and she snapped it shut. "And you know what they say about a woman scorned...No offense."

"None taken. Thanks for telling me." Gabriela locked the door behind him and flung herself down on one of the two identical, rather stiff charcoal-hued sofas-purchased solely for aesthetic reasons-in the living room adjacent to the front hallway. She was trembling from all of the mixed emotions running through her.

Dario might be her half-brother, but, as Agent Winter had pointed out, he was also a stranger to her-and a man she had no desire to meet after all the unsavory stories she'd heard about him. Between that knowledge and her intense jealousy, Gabriela would be more relieved than upset if Dario disappeared one way or another. She would no longer have to share Papa with anyone else, and he might even make her proprietor of the Temple so it would remain in the Cueto family-and under the Order's control. But she _would_ grieve for their father, whom she believed to be as close to Dario as he was to his only daughter.

Gabriela reluctantly got to her feet and trotted upstairs, ignoring her protesting stomach. She didn't have time to sit around speculating about her eldest brother's unknown fate or what consequences it might have on her own life. The gauntlet wasn't going to return to the Order on its own, and she also needed to get to work on designing a championship belt worthy of being worn by a goddess.

Still, she couldn't help but smile as she climbed the stairs.


	7. Powerful Magic

Gabriela parked the nondescript black sports car she used for dangerous missions and remained in the driver's seat for a moment to admire the open gold bracelet lying in her lap. The ordinary curb link bracelet had been charmed to provide the wearer with the power of invisibility as long as it remained in contact with her skin. She had weighed her options and concluded that this one gave her the best chance of successfully capturing the gauntlet.

The young woman wrapped the magical jewelry around her left wrist. Once she fastened the clasp, everything about her vanished instantly. Beneath her disguise, she had traded the outfit she fell asleep in for a sleek, all-black ensemble-tank, pants, combat boots. She had also put her two-toned hair up in a practical high bun.

She was hopeful that the bracelet would stay in place, but it never hurt to be prepared for a fight-especially when confronting someone with King Cuerno's fearsome reputation.

Naturally, the hunter lived in a cabin in the woods, and Gabriela had to hike some distance to find his home. It was a surreal experience to hear grass and leaves crunching beneath feet she couldn't see.

 _I wouldn't need to be invisible if I got possessed,_ she thought grumpily. Cuerno himself had serious host body potential, but she knew he was treating the gauntlet like a trophy instead of allowing its power to flow through him. What a waste! Then again, this _was_ the same man who had kept Mil Muertes's corpse as a souvenir...

No wonder her father had been pissed when he heard what happened at Ultima Lucha!

She stood next to the front door by the doorknob and unleashed a blood-curdling scream that would make a banshee proud. Cuerno wasn't just a hunter: he was also a predator. A man like him would be unable to resist investigating the possibility of a vulnerable woman on his property.

Sure enough, the door opened a crack and King Cuerno poked his head out, seeking the source of the eerie shriek. His dark brown eyes were cold and calculating, like the eyes of many an Order member. Seeing no one, he opened the door wider and cautiously stepped outside, dressed in a red-and-white, button down shirt, khakis, and a white cowboy hat.

Gabriela slipped past him unnoticed just seconds before he closed the door and ventured further onto his land. The first thing inside that caught her eye was an array of animal heads with black marbles for eyes mounted on the wood-paneled wall. Her gaze didn't have to roam long before she spotted the gauntlet, secure beneath a glass display case on the table next to an armchair. She would need to break the glass in order to extract it.

Fortunately, there was a table lamp conveniently located fairly close to the display case. Gabriela glanced out the window, but she didn't see Cuerno, so she figured it was safe to smash the lamp against the protective glass covering. She winced at the commotion she caused and turned her face away from the shards of glass that sprayed her, then lifted the gauntlet out of the wreckage. Sparks of electricity emanated from the metal and pricked her hands, making her gasp with excitement. This was the masculine version of the power she craved, and now she finally got a chance to experience it for herself: wearing the gauntlet was the only way to turn the magical item invisible and get it away from Cuerno without attracting undue attention.

The gauntlet was loose and bulky on the slim woman's arm, having been designed to fit a heavily muscled man, but that meant it went on with little effort. Although Gabriela was now unable to see the glove until she removed it, she could certainly feel the weight of it-and the presence of the god trapped inside, too.

She whirled around to bolt for the front door when Cuerno tackled her, knocking the wind out of Gabriela. By a stroke of luck, he managed to pin the invisible woman against the hardwood floor, pressing down on her shoulder blades with enough force to surely leave bruises behind. She had been so mesmerized by the gauntlet that she hadn't heard him come back inside, but Cuerno must have overheard the glass shatter. Or maybe he had given up searching for the shrieking woman and walked in on the gauntlet appearing to hover in midair.

"Show yourself, Catrina!" he commanded. Gabriela thrashed in vain, her heart pounding so hard it scared her. If he managed to get a hold of the bracelet and remove it..."Give me the gauntlet, or Mil Muertes will join my collection of trophies-again."

Rage suddenly filled every ounce of her being-an all-consuming fury out of proportion to the situation she found herself in-and she shoved Cuerno in the chest with newfound strength, slamming him against the side of the couch. He slowly staggered to his feet, casting an astonished look in her direction. It was gratifying to discover more than a hint of trepidation in those keen eyes of his.

Gabriela rose, too, and the god within the gauntlet acted of his own free will, using the woman to do his bidding and lunge for Cuerno, then grab him by the throat. She could feel him squeezing the metal glove with both hands in a desperate attempt to free himself as he was lifted off his feet.

"You're not Catrina, are you?" he gasped as the gauntlet began to crush his throat. "Or a ghost."

"No," she snarled to both comments in a voice too rough, male, and outright metallic to be entirely her own. It was difficult to tell whether Cuerno was more astonished or frightened by what he had just heard. The god, it seemed, had no intention of strangling him to death, for he flung the human through the air like he weighed mere ounces just seconds later.

Gabriela watched in awe and satisfaction as the hunter flew over the couch, crashed into a wall, and crumpled to the floor. The only indication that he had survived the impact was a violent coughing fit, followed by a string of muttered expletives in both English and Spanish.

 _Run,_ the gauntlet ordered Gabriela in a deep, rumbling voice she heard inside her head, and she complied without hesitation. Cuerno had locked the door behind him when he returned, trapping his visitor in the house with him, and the right-handed Gabriela fumbled because she was forced to rely on her left hand. The knowledge that Cuerno wasn't going anywhere any time soon helped relax her enough to get the door unlocked and open.

With her adrenaline running high and trees everywhere, she temporarily forgot the way to her car, but the gauntlet pulled her through the woods like an unseen rescuer until she arrived at her destination.

Once behind the wheel, she immediately set the gauntlet on the passenger seat, gunned the engine, and sped out of there. It wasn't until she could no longer see the wooded area in her rearview mirror that she discarded the bracelet-along with her disguise-in the glove department. Her leg was shaking as she eased up on the accelerator.

Out of habit, she reached over to turn on the radio, then reconsidered and placed her hand back on the steering wheel. Something told her a god would not appreciate her taste in music, but Gabriela didn't exactly have a live recording of Aztec drumming she could play...She was forced to drive with only her thoughts and her silent supernatural passenger to keep her company.

After she had calmed down, she began obsessing over the gauntlet to help pass the time during the long drive to her father's mansion. She had never felt so empowered as she had while wearing the supernatural metal glove-or, more accurately, while it was wearing _her_. Nothing she had ever experienced before compared to the adrenaline rush she had just enjoyed...Not amazing sex, or getting drunk, or even doing cocaine. Performing magic came closest, but Gabriela herself possessed only a fraction of the power contained in the artifact.

She so desperately wanted to be consumed by it that she struggled to concentrate on the journey ahead.

The god's influence over her only confirmed that hosting a goddess was her eventual destiny. She wasn't exactly optimistic that Papa would come around to the idea once she had fulfilled her other responsibilities to the Order, but the decision ultimately belonged to both the one volunteering to play host and the goddess who chose to inhabit her body.

Gabriela's high spirits were boosted further by the knowledge that she had singlehandedly corrected her idiot brother's mistakes-even if it meant _risking her life_ to rescue the gauntlet and the god within. Dario was too selfish to put himself in harm's way for the Order or offer up his own body as a vessel. He wasn't dedicated to the organization heart and soul like Gabriela and their father-and body, too, in her case.

She had to bypass a number of security measures, both ordinary and magical, before being granted access to the front door of her father's mansion. The eldest male Cueto had been in his forties by the time Gabriela was born, and the man who opened the door to her was a graying senior citizen with a lined face and disheveled hair. But, for the most part, he still had his health, and his quick, brilliant mind had remained intact. His daughter thanked the gods and goddesses for those blessings every night in her prayers.

It always warmed her heart to hear from and especially meet with him. Yes, he was often cranky and held some sexist, backward views, and he expected-no, _demanded-_ a lot from her regarding the Order, but she loved Dad fiercely anyway. Aside from Dario and Matanza, neither of whom she would likely ever meet, he was the only family she had in the States.

She beamed at him, hoping to erase some of the worry lines that had appeared overnight. "I brought you a gift, Papa."

His eyes lit up when he realized what she was cradling in her arms, and the corners of his mouth turned upward. "I knew you wouldn't fail me, Gabriela."

As she presented the gauntlet to the father she adored, Gabriela thought that he couldn't look prouder of her if he tried. She knew then that Dario would never again compete with her for the title of Papa's favorite child-not even if he showed up right here, right now, with a heartfelt apology on his lips.

There was a saying within the Order: "The only way to leave the Order is in a body bag." If Dario was still alive, well, he wouldn't remain that way for long. According to their rules, he had brought the death penalty upon himself by failing the gods and goddesses. Their organization's human members had a sworn obligation to seek vengeance on behalf of the wronged deities.

Although it was sad to lose yet another family member-Gabriela was still mourning her losses from years ago-on the bright side, Dario's absence meant the spotlight would be shining on his sister alone from now on...

* * *

The number of things even an ordinary human being could with accomplish with magic was staggering, but, for someone like Dario-someone who supposedly had an innate connection to the world of magic-the options were limitless.

He leafed through one of Catrina's books with great interest. Casting spells and hexes, using enchanted objects like amulets and his key...Dario was distracted by all the shiny new concepts and had to keep reminding himself that he was supposed to seek out information on defensive magic.

In the meantime, he thought of an ingenious idea to keep his wicked mother at bay that had little to do with magic. Nevertheless, he plunged ahead with his research, determined to put his new skills to good use. There was also a stack of books left on the coffee table that neither of them had gone through yet.

"Why do you have books on magic, anyway?" he asked Catrina, who was seated at the opposite end of the sofa with a heavy, yellowed book on her lap. Had she been curious about the Piedra Immortal's powers, or hoping to arm herself with dark objects for protection against the Order?

"I wanted to know if there was another cure for my condition-one that doesn't involve reuniting the two halves of the amulet." Catrina smiled sadly, and Dario recalled her saying that doing so would give her immortality but result in her mother's death. "So far, I have not found an alternative. I doubt that I am alive enough to even transition into a vampire." She idly turned the page. "It is also a fascinating subject to read about."

"I see." He wondered if there was something he could do to help her once he was better able to tap into his magic. Since she had agreed to keep him alive, it was only fair that he should find a way to repay the favor. They read in silence for awhile-Dario was engrossed in the material while Catrina scanned it with what seemed to be mere interest-until the former stumbled across some valuable information. In his excitement, he shoved the book at the undead woman. "I think this one could be useful."

"'Shield spell,'" she quoted aloud. Dario watched her skim the required steps with narrowed eyes and follow the words with a fingertip, then nod before returning the book to him. "This one-or one like it-has potential."

"It might even save me from the living," he muttered. How empowering it would be to take out would-be assassins without needing a weapon or self-defense classes! He wished he could do something more extreme-more _violent_ -like throw fireballs or lightning bolts, but he was supposed that was asking a bit much of a novice magic user...

"You need to be prepared for anyone and anything," Catrina readily agreed.

Dario made a face as he turned to the next page and checked out the ingredients needed for a random spell. "Ironically, many of these spells seem to require candles." He would have to get over his aversion to the silly things if he intended to practice magic.

"Candles...That gives me an idea." Catrina set aside her book, left the sofa, and began clearing the table of the ruined candles and the rest of their research materials. She then vanished in thin air, giving Dario a fright. Luckily for him, she returned before any ghosts noticed she had gone missing and moved in for the kill. She was holding a different white candle that appeared to be brand new, or, at least, unused, which she placed in the center of the clean tabletop.

"What is this?" Dario asked uneasily.

"I want you to do an experiment. Try to light this candle using the combined powers of your key and your mind."

"You really think I can do it?" he asked, feeling skepticism begin to creep in when asked to prove he was capable of magic. What if the first incident had been a coincidence or a fluke? Maybe it was better to stick with the dark objects. At least he knew how to use those.

She glared at him. "Not with that attitude. You have to believe in yourself, Dario. Just hold onto the key and stare at the wick while concentrating on creating a flame."

Although Dario was irritated with her for making his task sound absurdly easy, he was curious enough to follow Catrina's instructions to the letter. It took awhile to see results-presumably because he struggled to clear his mind of doubts and insecurities-but the key eventually heated up and a tiny flame formed on the wick. He was so startled-and overjoyed-that he leaped to his feet.

"I did it!" he exclaimed with an ear-to-ear grin, elated and dumbfounded all at once. He couldn't take his eyes off the flame that had since grown to roughly half an inch high. "I did it! But _how_ did I do it?" He finally glanced over at a relieved, smiling Catrina who was standing nearby, her dark eyes focused on him.

"With a glowing key and black eyes, just like last time," she quipped. Perhaps she didn't have an explanation for him, either. "Now try using the same method to extinguish the flame."

Again, it didn't happen instantly, but Dario was eventually able to snuff out the fire without going near the candle. The key worked in reverse, too, cooling down as opposed to heating up. Catrina nodded, a satisfied smirk on her face, and came over to place her hands on his shoulders and gaze into his eyes. The way she looked at him-her own eyes full of wonder-made his heart skip a beat and his mouth go dry.

"I knew you could do it," she murmured in a husky tone that sent a pleasant shiver through his body. "You, Dario Cueto, are something special."

 _If this were a scene in a movie, Catrina would kiss me right now._..Dario smirked to cover his discomfort, but made no such effort to smother his pride. A cocky smirk effortlessly appeared on his face. "Tell me something I don't know."

She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "You have my permission to experiment on me with magic."

He jerked backward and stared at her in disbelief. "What?" It was an odd phrase coming from a woman whose greatest fear was becoming one of the Order's host body projects.

She removed both hands from his shoulder and pointed past him to the book he had abandoned on the sofa. "You can start with something along the lines of that shield spell. If you can cast a spell like that, I can try to break through the barrier-as a ghost and in human form-to determine whether you were successful."

He smiled slightly, thinking that sounded like the perfect spell to keep both homicidal ghosts and human threats from getting close enough to do damage. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't know what the hell I'm doing. You could get hurt-"

"I don't feel pain," she informed him. "Your problem is a lack of confidence-not a lack of knowledge."

Dario snorted. "I don't lack..." Catrina's knowing look and arched brows made him trail off. He held up his hands, palms outward, to let her know that he had no intention of continuing the argument. "To be fair, I've never worked with this kind of magic before. Besides, some of these spells require a lot of work. I might not have time to cast one the next time I get attacked." Especially if his assailant was a ghost or pulled a gun on him...He recalled all too well how he had become paralyzed with shock just before Agent Winter shot him, and initially suffering the same fate when his dead mother came back for him-twice-with murder on her mind.

But Catrina was undeterred. "Then you need to create a magical object you can keep with you-or on you-at all times. Something like your key..." She examined the backs of her hands with pursed lips. "A ring, perhaps?"

Dario, however, wasn't the kind of man who loaded up his fingers with rings. The only jewelry he wore was the key necklace and...He rolled up his left shirt sleeve and extended his wrist towards her. "Or a watch?" It only came off before showering or getting in the pool.

She smirked. "Exactly...Although you might have to remove it when you need to go somewhere." His quizzical expression earned a swift explanation: "If your spell affects me, I will not be able to touch you and help you teleport."

"Oh. Right." Dario couldn't believe he had forgotten to take her undead status into consideration. He was just so relieved to discover a way to keep his countless enemies away that he had overlooked the obvious. "Well, in that case, a ring might be better." He could probably slip it into a pocket and still accompany Catrina around town. A frown deepened the lines on his face as pessimism set in again. "But I thought that was advanced magic-something only very powerful witches can do." Anyone could cast a spell or access the power within a dark object, but he was convinced that filling an item with magic was beyond him.

"You do not yet know what you are and aren't capable of," Catrina insisted sternly, trailing an index finger along his jawline while he spoke. "You have already made magic happen three times since dying. I suspect you are channeling your power through that key of yours."

The key...Resentment filled him as he reflected on his first bewildering memories of it. He was tempted to dismiss those memories as a fever dream, but that wasn't easy to do for someone surrounded by myths come to life. And, well, the key _did_ contain enough magic to manipulate a god...

 _My father told me everything I know about the key-but I'm starting to think he didn't tell me everything_ he _knows about it..._

He was also beginning to believe there were other secrets his father hadn't shared with him-secrets involving the Cueto family, and magic, and the Order.

Catrina lured him away from his turbulent thoughts when she took his wrist between her fingertips and gently rotated it so that she could read the time on his gold watch. Two-seventeen in the afternoon. Her eyes became more round and she backed away, looking mortified. "We will have to continue our experiments later. I must collect the gauntlet...I fear that I have wasted too much time already."

Dario was bitten by a rare twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry for inconveniencing you-"

She dropped his arm with a sympathetic smile as if to say it wasn't his fault. "Don't be. Our time together has been...enlightening."

"Listen, I've been thinking..." Catrina wore the blank yet mildly interested expression of someone who had no idea what to expect next. "Maybe you should drop me off in front of Matanza's cell whenever you have to go somewhere. I have the key to let him out if I need to, and I doubt even my mother would go near him. If it's not too much trouble, that is."

She nodded. "That is a very clever idea-and certainly safer than leaving you alone." Without waiting for permission, her fingers intertwined with his. "Yes, let's visit your brother."

Dario noticed that she reached down and snatched the rock off the coffee table just before they departed.

She left him in front of the cell with the briefest of nods and a polite smile to acknowledge Matanza's presence. The younger Cueto got over his initial disappointment when Catrina left after he realized his brother was going to stay awhile. Then he turned his attention back to Dario with a livid growl.

"What are you...Oh, these?" Dario pointed to the scratches on his face and bruising and cuts on his neck, having forgotten about his injuries amid the excitement of learning magic, and Matanza nodded in confirmation. The former put his face close to the bars and spoke quickly in a hushed tone. "Catrina didn't do this to me. It was...a ghost." Matanza let out a massive roar that caused Dario to back up-and be glad he hadn't revealed the ghost's identity. He watched his brother's chest heave with labored breathing as anger consumed him, and he thought his sibling might go ballistic if he knew their mother was up to her old tricks. "I'm afraid that seeing and hearing the dead are unfortunate side effects of dying. But don't worry: I am learning ways to protect myself-supernatural ways.

"Everything has changed, brother." Dario leaned his forehead against the bars with a sigh. " _I've_ changed." _More than you know..._ He backed up about a foot to study Matanza, his curiosity piqued. The same blood flowed through their veins. Was Matanza, too, blessed with the gift of magic? Did the soul of a god override any powers that came along with its host body, or could they coexist and tap into supernatural abilities from more than one source? It was pointless to ask because his baby brother probably wouldn't know the answers to his questions, either.

"There are changes coming to the Temple, too," he went on. "Catrina is going to be in charge until it is safe for me to return-but I still plan on visiting you whenever I can," he added hastily. "Remember what I told you earlier? That Catrina brought me back from the dead and we're friends now?" Matanza grunted in a way that Dario interpreted as a "yes." Close enough, anyway. "Well, I can't be seen in public with you anymore-not yet-so she'll probably be letting you out and escorting you to ringside. I guess, in a way, that makes her your friend, too." He wondered how she was going to explain the situation to Mil Muertes, and it dawned on him that he would never have to fear the Man of a Thousand Deaths as long as the location of Catrina's apartment remained a secret.

The eager, lustful look in Matanza's eyes gave Dario goosebumps. He thought it prudent to set a few ground rules. "That's why I need you to promise me something, Matanza. Promise me you won't harm Catrina in any way-and, if anyone tries to hurt her while you're around, I want you to _destroy_ them." He balled up a fist and slammed it into his palm to drive his point home. "My life depends on keeping her safe."

But there was more to his request than self-preservation. In their short time together, he was starting to realize that Catrina wasn't so different from him. She understood some of his struggles and desires from personal experience, and it was a relief to share those burdens with someone who could relate.

 _Great. Now I'm receiving therapy from a ghost...A half-ghost, technically._ But was that really any stranger than being resurrected, or practicing magic, or Aztec deities roaming the Earth inside human bodies? He thought not.

Meanwhile, his baby brother nodded once, then twice, and reached through the bars to squeeze Dario's shoulder with one grubby hand. He understood, too. Dario released the breath he had been holding, and a relieved smile brightened his face. Between Matanza, Mil Muertes, Jeremiah Crane, and Catrina's ghost powers, the Order wouldn't be able to get anywhere _near_ her.

"I knew I could count on you, brother. You don't know how much this means to me."

Dario had intended to stay with Matanza until Catrina came back, but then he remembered the bottom desk drawer he kept stuffed with cash...He needed to clean out that drawer because dead men weren't supposed to be able to access their bank accounts. It wouldn't take long at all to fill his pockets with bundled bills, and he would ask Catrina to add to his stash before they left. Perhaps they could pick up a few more bottles of his favorite whiskey and bourbon while they were here...

"I need to get something while I'm here at the Temple. I'll be right back." He smiled reassuringly at his brother before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Dario was halfway down the stairs when he heard a male voice with a thick Spanish accent call his name. He stopped in his tracks as the increasingly panicked voice shouted his name a second time.

 _Papa?_ Dario couldn't believe what he was hearing. He shook his head like he was trying to clear his ears of water and told himself it was just wishful thinking on his part. He wanted to reconnect so badly with his father that he had imagined Dad coming to the Temple to search for him.

It was a nice fantasy, but what if there was an element of truth in the scene he imagined? Dario didn't want to outright dismiss the possibility that his father had indeed come to his rescue.

Against his better judgment, he crept down the rest of the stairs and listened by the entrance door leading to the staircase. He jumped when he heard the door to his nearby office burst open.

 _That_ wasn't a hallucination...

"Oh, gods, son," he heard his father's distinctive voice moan in Spanish, followed by a lament in English: "What has happened to you?" That's when Dario knew the older man had seen the bullet hole-ridden chair. Papa's reaction contained all the appropriate emotions one would expect from a man whose beloved son was missing and had just been confronted with evidence of foul play.

His eyes misted over with relief. _Papa still cares about me!_ He wanted to fling the door wide open and shout, "I'm here, Papa! I'm alive!" But Catrina's warning not to contact his father under any circumstances silenced him and kept him from moving a muscle. They were on opposing sides of the war now. Once his dad inevitably learned of his betrayal, Dario knew that he could expect no more mercy than anyone else who turned their back on the Order.

Being a Cueto had become a curse as opposed to insurance from harm.

The concern in his father's voice warmed Dario's heart even as it was breaking into pieces. Dario couldn't bring himself to believe that a man so anguished over his missing son would have taken out a hit on him...

The door rattled again, presumably as Papa was on his way out. His footsteps came closer, then stopped, frightening Dario into dashing up the staircase. He shut himself inside the room with Matanza and pressed himself against a wall in the far corner, hiding with baited breath.

He recalled seeing references to invisibility in one of Catrina's books, and it occurred to him that would be an incredibly useful ability to have in his magical toolkit. Then he could go anywhere in the Temple, at any time, without fear.

"Catrina, _help_ ," he whimpered, followed by a silent prayer asking Matanza not to become agitated and make noise that would attract their living parent's attention. Dario held a finger to his lips to ask for silence, although he didn't know if his brother could see him in the darkness. He hated to call on Catrina when she was in the middle of resolving the gauntlet problem, but knowing she could resurrect him failed to alleviate his phobia of dying-especially after receiving a taste what the Other Side had in store for him.

It was foolish to continue believing that his father loved him more than the Order and the Aztec gods and goddesses. What if he had misjudged Papa? What if he had come to the Temple not to check on Dario but to confirm his death-and finish the job if need be? Dario felt faint with terror.

It took Catrina longer to get there than expected-so long that Dario swore he could hear a hand twisting the doorknob to the little room they were in. But that was highly unlikely, because, at his age and in his physical condition, climbing a staircase would be a real challenge for his father. He recalled that Catrina had planned to bring Mil Muertes along and deduced that she must have made a stop to drop him off along the way. He stepped out of the darkened corner to face Death's mistress, whose weary expression gave him a sick feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. Something must have gone wrong on her end, too.

"What-"

"We need to go," Dario cut her off in a harsh whisper. " _Now."_ He took her hand and mouthed an apology to Matanza in the split second before they teleported to the safety of Catrina's apartment.

* * *

"What was _that_ about?"

Three times in one day, Catrina had been summoned by Dario, but, as far as she could tell, there had been no imminent threat to his life this time. Yet _something_ had clearly shaken him to the core. Had his psychotic bitch of a mother come back for him yet again? Or perhaps he had been visited by one or more of the many other ghosts who had a vendetta against him...Was there nowhere the man was safe?

Catrina waited impatiently on the sofa while he entered the kitchen, took a plastic cup out of the cardboard box, and poured some bourbon into it. She watched him reach into the box and produce a second cup, only to put it back with a sheepish look, having remembered that Catrina didn't drink alcohol or any other beverage.

"You look tired," he remarked when he sat down beside her, drink in hand.

"I am," Catrina admitted. Tired and stressed out-and that was before Dario had told her the reason he demanded she take him away from the Temple. She could only feel worse afterward. "So, why did you summon me?"

He took a sip of bourbon prior to explaining, his hand trembling as he brought the cup to his lips. "My father showed up at the Temple. I heard him calling my name."

"He didn't see you, did he?" Catrina asked with a note of hostility born of panic. She hoped that Dario had heeded her advice about staying near Matanza instead of roaming around the Temple like he still owned the place, but, with an ego that size, she couldn't be certain that he had followed her advice.

"No." Dario stared as intently into the plastic cup as if he were reading tea leaves. "More than anything, I wanted to talk to him-but I didn't because I remembered what you said. He sounded worried, Catrina...Still, I feared he was there to kill me, so I hid." He took a longer sip, then set the bourbon next to the pile of magic books on the coffee table and dropped his head into his hands. "My own father..."

"I am sorry, Dario." Catrina lightly placed her hand on his forearm and drained some of the negativity out of his tense body. It made her feel better instantly even though she was still alarmed that the cult leader had gotten so close to learning his eldest son's whereabouts. She appreciated how excruciating this sacrifice was for Dario and wished there was something more she could do to lessen his anguish, because she, too, had been forced to choose between her life and her parent's.

No matter how long they had been estranged or how much Catrina craved immortality, that had not been an easy decision to make. But it would be infinitely more traumatic to cut off contact permanently with a beloved parent like she had insisted Dario do.

He started to yawn and covered his mouth, then frowned at the sight of her hand resting on his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding. Don't worry: You will feel somewhat weakened afterward but recover quickly." With Dario summoning her, there hadn't been time to get a healing kiss from Mil before traveling to the Temple and returning home. She couldn't blame Dario for wanting to escape before his father found him. Only a fool would stick around to see what happened next.

"Why are you...You're upset about something," he surmised correctly, and gave her a penetrating look. She withdrew her touch and twisted her hands in her lap. "Catrina, what happened with the gauntlet?"

She was wondering when he would get around to asking about it. "It was gone by the time I arrived..." Catrina began explaining with a bowed head and a great deal of shame. If only she had taken her mother's advice and stopped waiting for the perfect moment...

 _The gauntlet was missing-and so was King Cuerno._

 _Catrina pressed her nose against Cuerno's trophy room window, appalled to discover that the glass display case that had held the gauntlet was now in ruins._ _She craned her neck and found Cuerno sitting on the floor across the room, his expression murderous, one hand rubbing his throat and the other pressed against the small of his back._

 _"It was_ right there," _she hissed at Mil, pointing with a shaky hand at the remains of the display case. "I think we need to have a little talk with a certain hunter..." Mil nodded in agreement, teeth gritted, and Catrina-who had linked arms with him since she had brought the rock to shatter the glass with-teleported the two of them inside the cabin._

 _"Where is it?" she screamed at Cuerno as Mil rushed over and lifted the injured man to his feet by his shirt collar, then slammed him against the nearest wall. Cuerno winced, but he wasn't about to show fear in front of his longtime foe. "Wh_ _ere is the gauntlet?" Catrina was too upset to remember the importance of keeping her composure._

 _"The hell if I know," he snapped, squirming in vain. "Ask the invisible woman who stole it from me."_

 _Catrina exchanged worried glances with Mil. An invisible woman in pursuit of the gauntlet? The bizarre scenario had the Order's fingerprints all over it. She knew, however, that the Order was male-dominated, so this woman must be pretty special if they had her doing their dirty work. She was also aware that ghosts weren't the only beings who could move around unseen..._

 _"How do you know the thief was female if you couldn't see her?" She was tempted to remind him that_ he _had stolen the gauntlet and both she and the Order were only attempting to reclaim their stolen property._ _"Did she say anything?"_

 _Cuerno hesitated, and Mil yanked him forward, then smacked the back of his head against the wall in an unspoken warning._

 _"Tell us the truth, or Mil will_ _break your bones one at a time until we get answers." Hell, she would beat the words out of him with her resurrection rock if she had to._

 _Facing the prospect of having every bone in his body snapped like twigs-and undoubtedly realizing that he was unlikely to escape Mil's iron grip while already injured-Cuer_ _no begrudgingly shared what little he knew._

 _He shrugged as best as he could. "I heard_ _a woman scream just before it happened, so I went outside to investigate. Nothing. When I came back, I saw the gauntlet disappear into the air." His_ _intense brown eyes momentarily clouded with embarrassment. "I managed to knock her down, but she attacked me and got away." He glanced at Catrina. "I thought it was you at first, but she was much stronger."_

 _She ignored the barb thrown her way, although it was enough to make Mil growl. "That was no ghost," she declared. It was impossible for the living to physically subdue a phantom for even a short duration. Dario's last encounter with his mother was proof of that._

 _"Whatever she is, when I get my hands on her again, I'm going to finish the bitch off and mount her head on my wall," Cuerno snarled._

 _"Not if I get to her first. Then there won't be anything left of her for you," Catrina said equally savagely. She could hear Dario begging for her help and wondered who had gotten to him now. Oddly, he sounded less terrified than conflicted. "Mil will deal with you later, Cuerno." She motioned for Mil to release Cuerno and smirked as he carelessly tossed the injured hunter to the bare, hardwood floor below, then took his hand and exited the cabin._

"'Invisible'?" Dario blurted out as soon as she finished her story. "Like a ghost?" He paused thoughtfully. "Or someone cloaked by magic?"

She nodded slowly. "It is possible...Do you know of any female magic users who work for the Order?"

It didn't take him long to come up with an answer. "There _is_ a girl my father met down in Mexico... A witch. She joined the Order and followed him to L.A. He told me she does spells and creates dark objects for them as needed."

That sounded like a promising lead. It also explained how certain "prizes" awarded in Lucha Underground were infused with the power of a deity. "What else do you know about her?""

He shrugged. "Not much-just that she's a recluse with Aztec blood and apparently possesses great power. I can't tell you more because I've never even _met_ her. Very few Order members have. I don't even know her name."

"What about Agent Winter? Has he met with her?"

"A few times," Dario answered with a nod and a look of discomfort. "He said this girl-this witch-initiated contact with the goddesses and was working on a belt for some 'lucky luchadora.' Her words, not mine," he quickly added when Catrina glowered.

"That would certainly explain why she was so desperate to get the gauntlet."

"Indeed." He sighed loudly. "I expect she'll take it straight to my father or..." Dario stopped talking mid-sentence, and his eyes widened considerably. "Can you find the gauntlet just by visualizing it?"

"Yes, of course." That was how teleportation worked: visualize and arrive at one's intended destination.

"Then go get it," he said so impulsively that Catrina knew he hadn't considered the potential ramifications for either of them. "My father lives a long way from the Temple, and, even if he's already left, it will take him awhile to get home. You could be in and out with the gauntlet in seconds." He snapped his fingers to indicate what an effortless task it should be for her.

"I am reluctant to leave you alone-either here or at the Temple." In less than twenty-four hours, the man had been slain, threatened with death, survived a murder attempt thanks to her intervention, and nearly been found by another man who might wish to kill him. Perhaps Catrina had underestimated the number of enemies Dario had made and their determination to end his life.

"I'll be fine." The waver in Dario's voice told Catrina he didn't entirely believe his own statement, but he was trying desperately to convince himself it was true. "But, if I..." He gulped, and his complexion took on a sickly hue. "You can bring me back if you have to. Now go."

"If you're sure..."

"It's your best chance of saving the people you care about," he reminded her firmly, and his observation made the decision for her. The Order would expect Mil to start wearing the gauntlet so that its power could take over, and Jeremiah wouldn't have been thrown into the Gauntlet of the Gods match if the cult hadn't sensed potential in him. Then there was Fenix...After her betrayal, she owed it to him to keep him off the Order's radar.

Incredibly, she was even beginning to care about Dario, too. His presence eased some of the loneliness she felt, and there were moments when she thought he understood her in a way that no one else did.

She didn't need to collect Mil or even her favorite supernatural weapon this time. But, as Catrina stood to leave for her next destination, she got an ominous feeling that she couldn't shake. The Order's witch complicated matters. It meant Dario would have to learn to use his own powers almost immediately if they hoped to keep the Order from literally bringing the war to Catrina's doorstep.

 _We can't afford to waste any more time,_ she thought grimly, sparing a last glance at a nervous Dario before allowing her imagination to take her straight to the gauntlet.


	8. Sins of the Father

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Since I wrote this chapter, season 4 has begun, so I've decided to edit it to more accurately describe the new character introduced here. Minor spoilers ahead!**

* * *

The vault Catrina ended up teleporting into became bathed in light from an overhead lamp upon her arrival. She scanned the items around her and immediately realized that she was standing in a treasure trove for the magically inclined.

She could see the gauntlet on a shelf mere feet from where she stood-not to mention feel its wicked electricity trying to seduce her like a siren's song-but the wall-to-wall shelves were brimming with distractions. Various objects that undoubtedly doubled as either weapons or charms, fragrant herbs in neatly labeled glass jars, empty vials and bottles in multiple sizes, candles, and musty books on the arcane. On a small table near the center of the room lay a thick, worn, leather-bound volume with _EL LEGADO CUETO_ engraved on the cover. In English, the words translated to "the Cueto legacy." It had probably been passed down from generation to generation and traveled from Spain to Mexico to the States. Although Catrina was itching to peek inside, she refrained from doing so. She was here on a time-sensitive mission.

The fascinating assortment confirmed her suspicions that the Cuetos were not just ordinary humans dabbling in the dark arts, but human beings with inborn magical powers. _B_ _rujos_ , to use the Spanish term for male witches.

Her head spun as her mind conjured up one question after another. Did Dario even know this room existed? How could he not know what he was? Was he really just coming into his powers now? Could Matanza be a witch, too? And why would their father bother recruiting the Mexican girl when he and at least one of his sons could do magic?

Catrina took a deep breath and shook her head to clear her mind of the torrent of unanswered questions and regain focus. She needed to get the gauntlet and get out before a certain cult leader returned home and used a magical trick or two to punish her for invading his privacy.

Assuming she _could_ leave...Catrina shuddered, fearful that Dario might have-unwittingly-sent her into a magical trap. She hastily pushed that thought away, determined not to worry unless escape actually proved impossible.

As tempting as it was to bring a handful of the hexed items back to Dario, she suspected that "Papa" Cueto kept a watchful eye on his inventory and would notice at once if even one item disappeared. It dawned on her that both Dario and Marie would _love_ to liquidate the contents of this place...

Her hands shook as she approached, then picked up the gauntlet. The god inside seemed to speak to her, telepathically imploring her to try on the enchanted glove and get a taste of power not even she could conceive of.

Catrina's phobia of becoming possessed diminished. Becoming a goddess would make her as powerful as the gods...She had gotten a little taste of such power when she took the gauntlet to Mil, but, if she tried it on, she would realize exactly what she was missing out on...She would feel more alive than she ever had...

She closed her eyes and savored the fantasy for a moment before reality washed over her like a wave of frigid water. These domineering thoughts were _not_ her own. They came from the god, who was trying to manipulate her by playing to her insecurities.

Catrina went straight to her mother's office so she wouldn't weaken and give in to temptation. It was a great relief to discover that she had been able to come and go from the elder Cueto's property without incident.

To her surprise, she saw that Taya was sitting in a chair across from her mother, who rose from behind her desk the moment Catrina entered the room. Taya was wearing an olive green T-shirt and ripped jeans, and her distinctive blonde-and-red strands had been thrown into a sloppy ponytail. One leg bounced with nervous energy.

"That's him," the Canadian confirmed as she slid a pencil drawing across the desk towards Marie, who eyed the gauntlet with a look of satisfaction. Catrina took a silent step closer, frowning. "That's the man I saw..." She twisted in her seat, following Marie's gaze, and leaped out of her chair with a surprised cry. " _Catrina?"_ Her suspicious green eyes flicked to the gauntlet and back to the undead woman's face seconds later. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Taya might be clueless regarding Catrina's motives, but Catrina knew instinctively that Dario's murder explained the valkyrie's visit with the police. "Leave us and fly back to Asgard, valkyrie. I have something I need to discuss with Captain Vasquez- _in private._ "

Taya's jaw dropped. "What could you possibly...Wait. Does this have something to do with the gauntlet?" Catrina's answering icy glare made her reconsider asking additional questions. "Never mind. It's none of my business. Besides, I'm done here-and I've kept Johnny waiting long enough." She stormed past Catrina, who blinked in surprise at the news that Johnny Mundo had escorted Taya to the police station. It was difficult to imagine him actually caring about someone or something outside of himself and the Lucha Underground title.

"Thanks for all your help, Taya," Marie called after her, casting a disapproving look in her daughter's direction. "I'll be in touch."

Catrina waited until the door had closed behind the harbinger to cross the room and surrender the gauntlet. Relinquishing it brought her both relief and dismay. Marie loudly sucked in a breath as she took the iron glove from her daughter, indicating that not even she was immune to its malevolent influence, and quickly opened a side drawer in her desk and tucked it inside.

While she was hiding the wretched thing, Catrina snatched the illustration off her mother's desk and studied it with interest. "Who is this?"

"According to the harbinger of death you so rudely dismissed, the man in this sketch is Dario Cueto's killer. She had a vision of his death."

"Agent Winter." Using Taya's description, a sketch artist had composed a visual profile of a middle-aged black man with very dark skin, a bald head, and a single stud earring adorning each earlobe. He appeared to be wearing a suit and tie. The man who slayed Dario had inadvertently changed the course of Catrina's future as well as Dario's. She wanted to kill Agent Winter herself for adding extra stress to her already complicated existence, but it would be unfair to deny Dario the privilege of avenging his own murder. Of course, it would be best to wait until after he had found a successful, magical way to prevent attacks by spirits...

"The valkyrie is a valuable asset to have on our side," Catrina continued. Norse mythology wasn't her specialty, but she had made an effort to familiarize herself with the various supernaturals working for Lucha Underground-along with their unique talents.

"Yes, she is." The older woman regarded her with troubled eyes. "And what do you mean by ' _Agent_ ' Winter?"

Catrina handed back the paper. Her mother frowned at the drawing as if by doing so the image would provide a clue. "Dario told me that he belongs to the FBI as well as the Order."

Marie made a disapproving sound in her throat and shook her head, tossing the sketch onto her desk like it had burned her. Catrina was reminded of Dario clutching his key one second and releasing his hold on it the next. "Those bastards really have infiltrated every level of the government...How is your hostage, anyway?"

"Alive-for now. I must return soon. Dario has many enemies on the Other Side who wish for him to join them." Notably his mother. It sickened Catrina to think that a woman who terrorized her children for years would spend her afterlife continuing the abuse. And Dario and Matanza's father was equally twisted and evil. No wonder the brothers had become addicted to violence and chaos...That was all they had ever known.

"And just as many enemies among the living," Marie muttered under her breath with a glance at the sketch artist's work.

"True." Catrina culdn't resist asking one more question before she left. "Mother...Do you know anything about the female witch who works for the Order?"

Marie's stunned visage told her this was news to her. "This is the first time I've heard of her...Mind telling me what you know?"

Catrina swallowed her disappointment. She had hoped her mother knew a few interesting tidbits that would lead to identifying the witch, but she nonetheless relayed what little information she was privy to. "Dario says she is a reclusive Aztec girl-in her twenties, I presume-his father met in Mexico. She communes with the deities and charms objects like the gauntlet with their power." Catrina left out the part about the witch stealing said gauntlet and delivering it to Dario's father. She wished to spare herself a lecture about how that near-disaster could have been avoided in the first place had she not wasted so much time.

"And?"

"And that is all he knows. He wasn't one of the chosen few allowed to meet with her."

"Interesting...About the only good thing I can say about Dario Cueto is that he's useful," Marie stated with disdain. "This is exactly the kind of information I hoped you would get from your...association with him."

While Catrina agreed that Dario was useful, she wouldn't go so far as to say that was his _only_ redeeming quality. She bit her tongue, though, for the last thing she wanted was to give her mother the impression that she and Dario were on good terms. Because getting to know Dario better _was_ starting to alter her perception of him, and she expected that he was also looking at her in a new light.

 _Hmm...Maybe we_ could _become_ _friends after all..._ She held back the amused smile the idea produced.

"Anything else I should know?" The police captain watched her daughter like she knew that Catrina was leaving out some vital details.

"Not yet," Catrina said flatly. Marie would be livid if she learned that her daughter was encouraging Dario to access his suppressed witch abilities and conduct experiments on her. Never mind that he just might have the potential to save all three of them and obliterate the Order as well...

* * *

No ghosts came for Dario while Catrina was away procuring the gauntlet. He was careful to avoid closing his eyes for longer than it took to blink, and he tried not to get too wrapped up in the book he was perusing, lest he be caught off guard again. Although Catrina wasn't gone nearly as long this time, he breathed easier when she returned wearing a victorious smile.

"I take it your mission was a success." It had crossed his mind after she left that his father might have done something to keep supernatural intruders off his property, resulting in her becoming trapped inside the mansion. He was happy to see that his new bodyguard had come home safe and sound.

"Yes. That particular jinxed item will no longer pose a threat to anyone." She turned and went into the kitchen, and he followed in hopes that she would elaborate. Instead, she stopped next to the table and stared at the groceries left behind with a furrowed brow. "Have you had anything to eat since I left?"

"No." Catrina ripped a banana off the clump, grabbed his hand, and deposited the fruit in his palm. Dario was too startled to do anything but stare at her for the next few seconds. "If you don't mind me asking, what did you do with the gauntlet?" he finally asked.

"Eat," she ordered him. "You need to keep up your strength if you're going to do magic." She motioned for Dario to sit at the table and took a seat across from him. "The gauntlet is with my mother." Catrina paused, drawing out the suspense, and revealed the woman's identity just as a confused Dario finished swallowing his first bite and opened his mouth to inquire. "Marie Vasquez, chief of police. She is also over a thousand years old."

" _Captain Vasquez_ is your _mother_? But she despises me!" he exclaimed, glad he had swallowed before Catrina's dramatic revelation. Delgado had confided in him about the captain-about how determined she was to wipe out the Order and foil their plans every step of the way-but he had never said she was related to Catrina. Maybe he had been unaware there was a connection between the two of them.

Catrina shrugged. "She despises the Order even more than you-enough to reluctantly accept your assistance in taking them down."

Dario felt chilled to the bone and rubbed his arms briskly through the sleeves to increase blood flow. "Then she knows that I died, and you..."

"Don't look so surprised, Dario. Between the valkyrie, your missing body, and my stone, it was only a matter of time."

He blinked. "Valkyrie? You mean Taya?" It irked him that this important detail had somehow passed him by. He wondered if he could have avoided being shot and dying in the first place had she warned him of what the future held for him.

Catrina looked puzzled by his ignorance. "Yes. She helped the sketch artist develop a portrait of your killer." She pointed to the half-eaten banana he had forgotten about. "Keep eating."

Dario sighed and took another bite. "I hope I get my hands on that smug son of a bitch before your mother does."

"You will have your revenge," Catrina swore, "but you should learn to shield yourself from spirits first. It will be unpleasant for both of us if his ghost decides to remain behind in this realm."

"Worse for me, I imagine. I think the dead are intimidated by you." Since his mother's return trip and nearly successful attempt to strangle him, finding a way to repel ghosts was one of Dario's top priorities.

"Because I can cause them harm." She studied him from beneath black eyelashes so long and lush that they had to be false. "Do I intimidate _you_?"

He smirked. "Only a fool would say no." Truth be told, he was a little less frightened of her now that they were working together-but he hadn't forgotten what she was capable of.

His response earned him the hint of a smile. "I asked my mother about the witch, but she knew nothing about her. She had no idea there is a girl working for the Order."

"It seems they did a good job of concealing her."

"I suppose so." Catrina waited until he had finished eating and discarded the peel in the trash container before speaking again. "She is not the only witch I know of." Dario's brows inched upward, urging her to go on. "I found the gauntlet in what I assume is a secret room in your father's home. It was filled with mystical objects, candles, herbs, and old books on magic-the kind of items a witch might have."

"Hold on...Are you saying that my dad is..." Dario's initial disappointment over not being granted access to this wondrous room was swept away by astonishment over what Catrina had just implied. He leaped to his feet, poked himself in the chest, and added in a hoarse tone, "That _I'm_ a..."

She nodded. "I believe that both of you are some kind of witches."

He immediately began to shake his head. "That doesn't make any sense. I thought witches were supposed to get their powers as children or maybe when they become teenagers...You must be mistaken." His voice cracked on the last word. "Are you _sure_ you were inside my father's mansion? Maybe the witch took the gauntlet home with her-"

"Dario, I saw a book with _THE CUETO LEGACY_ engraved on the cover in Spanish. I assume it is the family grimoire."

"Then it's true," he whispered, almost as stunned as he had been when Agent Winter drew his gun. "That son of a bitch has been lying to me my entire life." He was so upset that he didn't even realize he had just insulted his much-loved "Papa."

Catrina's eyes were sympathetic, and she allowed her hand to rest briefly on one of his. "If you never knew what you are, you might not have recognized the signs. Or perhaps you dismissed any strange occurrences because you believed yourself to be an ordinary human being."

"Maybe...I don't know." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I-I need a few minutes to be alone with my thoughts." A few hours would be better, but they didn't have that much time to spare. "Do you mind if I..." He jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom, and she nodded again.

"Take all the time you need." She didn't _really_ mean it, of course, but just knowing he wasn't being pressured made him feel a little better. He appreciated that Catrina was making an effort to show him respect.

Dario's legs were wobbly as he proceeded down the short hallway, running a hand along the wall to steady himself, and shut himself inside the bedroom. He perched on the end of a bed that Catrina had probably never used and ran his hands absent mindedly over the vermilion, velvet bedspread while he reflected on his father's many lies.

He should have been ecstatic that he had a label to explain his new powers, but his enthusiasm was dampened by his father's deceit and too many unanswered questions.

 _Why didn't he tell me what I am-what_ we _are? A_ _nd why the hell didn't I figure it out sooner?_

It seemed that dear old Dad had been lying to him for his entire life...

Dario rolled the key between his fingers and stared at it, deriving comfort from the heat it put out. He felt certain Papa himself had done something to the key, or had perhaps done something to _him_ using the key, that involved magic. Chanting in an old language-Dario speculated his father's preference was Nahtual, the language of the Aztecs-was a very witchy thing to do, as was crafting mystical items.

He thought back on his life and tried in vain to recall even a single instance when he had done magic without relying on an outside artifact. He wished he had an explanation for why his powers hadn't manifested until after he was resurrected. Had Catrina's magical stone somehow ignited the dormant traits within him?

 _Better late than never,_ he told himself, although it was impossible _not_ to feel bitter over all those wasted years. If his father had been honest with him from the start, he could have helped Dario reach his full potential...Knowing that Papa had chosen some random witch to mentor-or, at the very least, work with-instead ate away at him.

He couldn't understand why Dad would bother with her when he was already a witch and had passed on his magical genes to at least one of his sons. Did he believe that employing someone with Aztec heritage would win him points with the gods? Or was the Mexican girl just an exceptionally powerful weapon to include in the Order's arsenal?

 _If both of us can do magic, maybe Matanza can, too..._ The concept was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Were magical powers part of the package deal in a witch host body, or had they moved on with his soul after death? Maybe the "witch gene" was inherited at random and not every child of a witch became one.

There was so much Dario didn't know about the many facets of witchcraft, let alone his own father, and he was eager to learn as much as he could and as quickly as possible.

He had always known his father was far from a saint. The man had abandoned his children with their abusive mother, sacrificed Matanza and tortured him until he snapped, and planned to bring about the apocalypse. In spite of all this, Dario _thought_ he had formed a close bond with his dad as an adult and a member of the Order. He had _assumed_ that Papa loved and respected him enough to be honest with him.

Apparently, he was wrong on both counts-which made him feel he was probably wrong to believe his father had nothing to do with his death.

He wished he could raid the vault of magical toys to get back at him.

Matanza still hated and feared their father to this very day, and now Dario understood where he was coming from. He also found himself haunted by guilt over his hypocrisy and cowardice. It had been wrong to glorify their father while vilifying their late mother when he was every bit as sadistic as she was.

 _Big brothers are supposed to protect their little brothers,_ he thought shamefully. Never mind that _his_ little brother was twice his size and had the power of a god...Matanza had saved Dario's life when they were younger, and, as adults, he had come to his rescue countless times at ringside.

And Dario had repaid him by overlooking Papa's cruelty because he treated Dario well. The oldest son tried not to dwell on all of the vicious things their father had done to his "baby brother." Instead, he admired and encouraged the many strengths Matanza developed once the god consumed him. Every time he felt disgusted, he told himself-quoting their old man-that the end justified the means.

 _Everyone in my family is a monster-some of us more than others._ Dario wasn't quite sure where he fit on the spectrum.

He felt his eyes grow moist, and he wiped away an escaped tear with the back of his hand. Not even magic could undo all of the damage their parents had done to them, but Dario knew he could be a better brother to Matanza-and he was lucky enough to get a second chance to prove it.

Hopefully, he would have an easier time letting go of his relationship with his father now that he was aware the man had been deceiving him from the beginning. And if he ever received confirmation that Papa had something to do with his death, he would wage war on him personally.

Dario took a deep breath and sat up ramrod straight, having decided that he had done enough wallowing for one day. There were magical experiments to be conducted, and a pitiful growl from his stomach reminded him that a piece of fruit was a poor substitute for a decent lunch. He opened the door to find Catrina waiting in the middle of the hallway, like she had been expecting him to come out at any moment.

"I wanted to check on you," she began uncertainty, "but I did not wish to intrude."

That was an unusual statement coming from someone who had a habit of teleporting into his office whenever she pleased. "I'm fine," he reassured her with a smile as he joined her in the hall. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were actually concerned about my welfare."

Her smirk lifted the corner of one side of her sensuous mouth. "Well, the less time you spend deep in thought, the more time you can devote to practicing magic."

"I definitely want to get started on that-right after lunch." He shook his head, dazed. "I still can't believe I'm a witch..."

She lightly rested a hand on the side of his face for a moment. "I can." Up close, Catrina's warm, greenish-brown eyes were more striking than ever. They were also shining with a firm belief in his abilities that he desperately wanted to share. "There is something else on your mind, isn't there?" she asked while they walked towards the kitchen.

He nodded. "I was just thinking...If my father could keep all these big secrets from me-us being witches, his magic vault, the mystery of the key-it makes me wonder what else he's hiding."

* * *

Antonio Cueto, known to every Order member save for his children as Señor Cueto-his first name was a closely-guarded secret, and it was only fitting that the Order's leader should be referred to using a respectful title-used the claw end of a hammer to open a bottle of his favorite cerveza as soon as he returned home from the Temple. He sat the glass Agent Winter had used and carelessly left on Dario's desk on his kitchen table, took a swig of his own drink, then let himself into the backyard.

He stood on the patio overlooking the acreage that had once been beautifully manicured, but, in the absence of his second wife, had fallen into a state of disarray. The woman had had a green thumb and tended the flower gardens and planted trees herself back at the home they had shared with their daughter in Mexico City. The in-ground swimming pool still underwent weekly maintenance, however, and the sculptures Antonio had purchased over the years in Spain, Mexico, and California were intact, though weathered from age and exposure to the elements. Only the vast size of his estate and pool indicated his personal wealth.

Any outsider would naturally assume the fates had smiled upon the man. In reality, he lived in perpetual fear of angering the gods and goddesses. That was the main reason he had made the decision to force Dario into "leaving the Order" the night before. Well, that and having grown weary of Dario's failures.

 _"The good news is, Mil Muertes is destined to become a god," Agent Winter told the Order's leader the second the latter answered his cell phone._

 _"That is excellent news," Antonio responded in his raspy voice. He p_ _lanned to light a celebratory cigar and call Gabriela as soon as he finished his conversation with Winter. Although he would have been pleased no matter which luchador won the dubious honor, his daughter firmly believed that Mil Muertes was the best qualified. She would be thrilled to hear the results of the Gauntlet of the Gods match._

 _Winter sighed into the phone. "U_ _nfortunately, I've got bad news, too: Dario failed to prepare for King Cuerno's return and take steps to protect the gauntlet. The hunter attacked Mil Muertes after the match and made off with the prize." He went silent while his leader cursed in Spanish. "I know he's your son, but I'm concerned about the number of...mistakes he's made lately."_

 _"As am I." Antonio_ _pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on, then ran his free hand over his grizzled beard while he contemplated his eldest son's fate. Actions-and a lack of action-had consequences. In the Order, those consequences could cost a man his life. And, with Dario's track record of Order-related mishaps, this wouldn't be the last incident unless his father put his foot down._

 _"If there's anything I can do to help..."_

 _The FBI agent was an ambitious one. Ruthless, too. The group's leader made a mental note to keep an eye on him. "I_ _will have Gabriela use her magic to bring the gauntlet back to the Order. As far as Dario is concerned..." Sacrifices were a necessary evil when one worshipped the Aztec gods and goddesses, and it would appease them if Antonio_ _eliminated a weak link within the Order. The elderly man swa_ _llowed hard and reminded himself that Dario had brought this upon himself. "I want you to teach him a lesson-with a bullet." He ended the call without a second thought._

Sacrificing Matanza had been easier because he was just a boy at the time and his father hadn't been around long enough to bond with him, but, over the years, he had grown fond of Dario and the two had much in common. But the elder Cueto wasn't just a father; more importantly, he was also the Order's leader- _and_ someone long in debt to the Aztec deities. As such, he couldn't afford to be swayed by sentiment when _any_ member failed to honor his obligations. He had to set an example for the rest of the Order, to remind them that failure was unacceptable. If became known that even Señor Cueto's own children were subject to retribution, there would be no further disappointments or acts of betrayal to worry about from the others.

Since he had lost the sight in his left eye to a cataract, Antonio had his personal driver take him to the Temple the next day. He braced himself for the sight of his son's stiff, bloody corpse, but nothing could prepare him for walking into an empty office. Two small holes in the lower half of a desk chair, blood on the chair and the floor, and the bullet casings provided the only evidence that Dario had indeed been shot. He pocketed the casings, then scoured as much of the Temple as possible-not an easy task to do when one used a cane to get around-and the neighboring blocks without finding definite proof of his son's demise.

The older man was far more distressed by the prospect that Dario _wasn't_ dead than the reality of ordering his own son's execution.

Dario had become a liability-and not just because he was causing more problems than he was solving. He knew too much about the Order's purpose, the dark objects, and especially his father to be allowed to go on living. He was also a highly intelligent and perceptive individual, and it wouldn't be long before he concluded that his beloved Papa was behind the attempt on his life. Adding an additional element of danger was the fact that the binding spell the latter had put in place years earlier would automatically be broken once either man died.

Antonio shivered in spite of the sunny, spring-like weather and drank some more cerveza. He hadn't anticipated the complications that would arise from Dario becoming one of the undead. If that was indeed what had happened...

Supernatural intervention was about the only rational explanation for the unusual circumstances following his shooting. There was body, no blood trail leading out of the office, no bloody prints left on the rotary phone, and no media coverage to indicate Dario had been found either dead or alive. Also, the red bull that was a fixture on his desk had vanished along with Dario-an heirloom almost as precious to him as his key.

But who would _want_ to help him? The man didn't have a friend in the world, and he had made so many enemies over the years that compiling a list of them would be a never-ending task...

Antonio supported his weight on the cane-customized with a bull's head topper befitting a member of the Cueto family-as he paced the patio and tried to determine his next course of action. He finally arrived at the conclusion that he must find and finish off Dario himself to guarantee that he _stayed_ dead. But he must do it in such a way that would never make Gabriela doubt his innocence. Never mind that she was jealous of Dario and wouldn't shed a tear over his death...So far, she had no evidence to believe her father was cold-blooded enough to destroy his own family. The girl practically _worshiped_ him, and he wanted to avoid shattering her illusions.

Because if his daughter suspected that he was guilty of killing even one of his children, she would begin to question a lot of the "truths" she'd heard from his lips. Her inevitable explosive reaction-she'd always been temperamental-once she started uncovering the family secrets would have disastrous consequences for the man who had raised her. Especially if she chose to stop using her magic to serve the Order...Then her father would have the deities to answer to...He went still, his entire body now cold with dread at the thought.

There was one secret above all that she would find unforgivable: the reason why her mother had gone missing.

 _Antonio cam_ _e home from work early and, like he always did, parked in the garage at the back of the Cueto compound. As he walked through the back door, he was greeted by the unusual sight of his wife headed toward him, lugging a large metal suitcase behind her. She released her grip on the handle with a loud gasp of surprise, and the suitcase popped open when it tipped over, exposing its contents._

 _Two sets of brown eyes stared anxiously at the mixture of clothing and bundles of cash secured by money clips. The suitcase was packed with feminine clothes for all seasons in both adult and child sizes._

 _Antonio locked the door behind him by feel alone and gave his wife such a malicious look that she stumbled backward. He grew increasingly perplexed as he studied her. The loose, dark brown curls that fell just past her shoulders, her favorite outfit combining a white silk blouse with a royal blue skirt and brown sandals, just enough makeup to enhance her natural beauty...Elena's outward appearance hadn't changed a bit, but he knew instinctively that a dramatic change had taken place inside of her._

 _The Elena he knew wouldn't have the courage to walk away from their life together and take their five-year-old daughter with her. The woman had been on the receiving end of her husband's quick temper often enough to expect retaliation for defying him._

 _"I-I didn't expect you home so early," she stammered._

 _Her husband shrugged. "S_ _low day at work._ _Taking a family trip without me?" he inquired in a deadly calm voice. Elena paled, her lightly bronzed complexion turning ashen as a result, and her eyes were wide with terror as she continued to back away. "Or maybe you were going to run away with my daughter after picking her up from school...That was the plan, wasn't it?"_

 _She hastily reached down to reassemble the suitcase, but he stepped forward and kicked it away from her before she could, causing some of the clothes to spill onto the floor. The woman recoiled as if she herself had been kicked._

 _"Gabi is_ my _daughter, too, and she deserves to grow up safe and happy and...and_ normal _! I don't want you brainwashing her into doing black magic." H_ _er husband gaped at her, feeling the blood drain from his face, while she nodded gravely and folded her arms over her chest. "Yes...I_ _finally know the truth about you, Antonio," she hissed. "I know all about the witchcraft and your crazy Aztec cult!"_

 _"How?" he finally asked once he recovered his ability to speak. He dragged a hand through his graying black hair while racking his brain for answers. "I tried so hard to keep that part of my life a secret from you..." Because he wanted sex with an attractive woman whenever he pleased, as well as children who had inherited her Aztec ancestry, and he couldn't raise those children by himself...It suddenly occurred to him that his former best friend might have sold him out. He lunged forward, grabbed his wife by the shoulders, and shook her roughly-as if he could literally shake the truth out of her. "Was it El Dragon Azteca? Did he say something to you?"_

 _Elena pushed him away with a little shriek. "It doesn't matter. All that matters now is getting Gabi as far away from you as possible." She hadn't lost her fear of him, but now the_ _re was a fire in her dark eyes he had never seen before-not even during their worst arguments. It was astounding to watch the sensitive musician and artist he had married transform into an Aztec warrior before his very eyes._

 _Antonio clenched_ _his fists, blood boiling at the nerve of the woman. "I will_ not _allow Gabriela to be raised like an ordinary girl when she is a witch!"_

 _"And I won't let you corrupt her!" Elena shouted at him. She rarely raised her voice, and doing so told her husband that she was prepared to fight him to the bitter end over their little girl's future._

 _They had reached an impasse. He struck Elena without thinking, backhanding the petite woman with enough force to knock her to the floor. She cried out as she touched her blotchy cheek, and, when she glanced up at him again, panic was written all over her face._

 _Antonio ya_ _nked his wife to her knees by the hair as she started to get up. The kitchen was next to the back door, and inspiration came to him when he glimpsed the knife block on the counter nearest to him. Since he was in too much of a blind rage to consider the repercussions, he reached for the largest butcher knife in the set._

 _"No," she whimpered, her damp eyes and clasped hands begging him to reconsider the fatal act of violence he was about to commit. "Please don't...Think of our little girl-"_

 _"I am," he snarled._

 _Everything happened so fast...One second, Elena was screaming at the top of her lungs and clawing at her husband's arms in a frantic attempt to escape his grip. The next, she was clutching her throat with both hands, blood gushing out from between her fingers, and landed face down on the patterned yellow tiles. The butcher knife fell from her assailant's fingers while he looked on in disbelief. His wife ma_ _de a futile attempt to crawl away, with her right hand pressed to her severed throat and her left hand slapping bloody palm prints on the floor as she began to drag herself, before abruptly collapsing. Antonio heard_ _grotesque gurgling for several seconds before Elena fell silent, although blood continued to pour from her mortal wound._

 _In the sudden hush of the aftermath, Antonio's_ _heavy breathing and pounding heart sounded loud as a thunderstorm to his ears. He s_ _tarted to tremble uncontrollably, and a sheen of sweat br_ _oke out on his clammy forehead when the reality finally sunk in._

What have I _done_? The gods will be furious! The Spanish and the Aztecs...Our bloody history...And she's not even a worthy sacrifice! _If she had been, and he had sacrificed her properly, he would have nothing to fear from the deities he worshipped. But, since the appropriate conditions had not been met..._

 _The man grabbed his wife's shoulder and rolled her over to confirm that she was indeed dead. Unsurprisingly, he determined at once that she had not survived the attack. Her eyes were devoid of life and had already taken on a glassy sheen, and much of her white blouse had been dyed red. His assault had been so savage that it was a wonder he hadn't succeeded at beheading her._

 _He fell to his knees beside the body, careful to avoid kneeling in the spreading pool of blood. She had hemorrhaged so much from her slashed throat that he could taste the blood in the air. The man began praying in Spanish, then immediately switched to Nahuatl so as not to further offend the gods._ _"Please...I beg your forgiveness...I know that I have committed a...te_ _rrible crime"-He nearly called it "unforgivable," but stopped himself just in time-"against one of your people, but I did it for Gabriela. Elena was going to raise her ignorant of her heritage and powers...I vow to spend the rest of my life serving you, and I promise that my daughter will use her future powers to do your bidding." It was a lofty promise, but, without her mother around to influence her, her father was confident that he could mold Gabriela into a devout servant of the gods. "Pl_ _ease, oh, please, spare me your wrath, dear gods..."_

Antonio would spend the rest of his life atoning for his second wife's barbaric death-just not in a prison cell. Unlike Dario, he had gotten away with murder because some of his men worked for the local police department. Due to their expertise in covering up crimes, Elena's remains had never been recovered.

To this day, twenty years later, Gabriela believed her mother had simply vanished without a trace, and Antonio needed to keep it that way. If she believed he was incapable of killing his own sons, she would remain convinced that he had nothing to do with Elena's disappearance, and, therefore, have no reason to turn on him.

His thoughts gradually shifted back to Order business. Whatever condition he was in, Dario wasn't about to return to the Temple with his shooter on the loose-except maybe the occasional quick trip to check on Matanza-so his father didn't have to be concerned that he would show up and thwart his plans. He had already chosen a successor who was uniquely qualified to represent both the Order and Lucha Underground, and he wanted this person to stake their claim on the Temple as soon as possible.

He hobbled back indoors and slowly made his way to the vault that contained every magic-related item in his possession. It was hidden behind a bookcase that stretched from floor to ceiling, and, with a wave of the hand, the bookcase slid gracefully to one side without disturbing a single book, revealing the door to the vault. Another flick of the hand and it, too, opened without a single touch.

As he hit the light switch and stepped inside, he noticed that the gauntlet was not where he left it. His heart skipped a beat. This was the first time he had entered the secret room since adding the gauntlet to his collection, meaning someone else had accessed the vault in between and stolen the artifact. He frowned as he debated who or what might be capable of such a feat.

The wards he had set around his home and property were designed to keep out both the living and the dead who wished him harm, but he had forgotten about the _un_ dead when putting them in place.

Catrina was the obvious culprit. For several fleeting, glorious seconds, the gauntlet had belonged to Mil Muertes, and both he and Catrina relished power nearly as much as the Cueto family. It was understandable that they should want it back.

There was also the little matter of her ghostly powers, combined with the use of a body as needed. Spirits couldn't exist in physical form without borrowing a host via possession, but they were also incapable of manipulating a meat suit into doing ghost tricks like teleporting or walking through walls. Catrina didn't fit neatly into any one category, however.

Catrina...The woman who carried around a stone with the power to restore life to the dead. If Dario had managed to contact her while he was hovering between life and death, he might have struck a deal with her to revive him. His life in exchange for relinquishing the Temple, probably. But, if the ghostly temptress wanted the Temple under her control again, why not just let Dario die and take over afterward? The two hated each other with the kind of intensity that often masked sexual tension between a man and a woman, leading Antonio to ponder the possibility that Catrina might have other, more unsavory motives for bringing his son back from the dead.

But she was sorely mistaken if she thought she was going to rule the Temple once more. The replacement Antonio had selected was someone who wasn't easily intimidated, craved power, and answered only to the gods, the goddesses, and him. Neither Catrina's mind games nor the threat posed by Mil Muertes would persuade this person to step aside.

The cult leader would deal with Catrina later-assuming she was responsible. Right now, he urgently needed to find a permanent solution to the Dario problem. He approached the shelves that were lined with rows of books and withdrew one titled _Death Magic_ , ready to consult every single tome in his immense collection if need be. The sooner he got this over with, the better, because every second that passed increased the odds of Dario figuring out how to unlock the power within the key-and unleashing all hell on his father, sister, and everyone else belonging to the Order.


	9. Save Them

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: I was asked in the reviews which character is an OC...Ga** **briela and her mother, Elena, are the only original characters in this story so far.**

* * *

"Thanks for doing this." The small, bald man PJ Black knew as Cortez Castro-but, the werewolf reminded himself, was actually a detective with the last name of Reyes-shook the other man's hand as he walked up to him. Crime scene tape had not yet been set up around the perimeter of the Temple, but PJ assumed that task would be completed after he left.

"No problem, but I'm only doing it as a favor to Taya." _And to save the world, too._ Acting like a supernatural police dog who could detect emotions and distinguish between species was a bit weird, but, if identifying the man who fatally shot Dario could prevent Ragnorak...Well, he was happy to lend his werewolf abilities to the cause.

The detective let out a humorless laugh and handed PJ latex gloves and clear, disposable shoe covers to wear over his athletic shoes, then donned a set of his own. Wearing police gear made PJ feel like a character on a televised crime drama. "You ever think of joining the force? I could use a new partner since my last one..." He trailed off with a scowl.

"Turned out to be one of the bad cops?" Reyes nodded, his expression understandably sour. "Nah, I'm good." PJ glanced at the exterior of the Temple with a smirk. "Besides, I'd have to call in sick every full moon."

There was a hint of a smile on the older man's face as he opened the main entrance door and stepped inside the Temple. "Good point."

PJ stopped cold when he entered the building behind him. _Someone else is here._ There should have been only three heartbeats-Reyes's, Matanza's, and his-but there were four. He also detected a smoky odor in the air that came from using magical objects.

He followed the cop inside through the front without sharing that information and straight to Dario Cueto's office. Or, rather, the office that had belonged to Dario before he was murdered. PJ guessed that Catrina would probably return to power once the Temple reopened and it became clear the old owner wasn't coming back.

"Do you mind waiting elsewhere?" he asked the cop as he opened the office door. "I'm already getting overwhelmed with all the smells in here."

"Sure. I'll watch the front door while you do your thing. Come find me when you're done."

"Thanks." The door rattled slightly as the detective closed it behind him, and PJ instinctively clicked on the desk lamp-not that someone with his sharp eyesight really needed it. He hadn't been inside the office but a minute when a soft, feminine voice floated down to him from somewhere above.

"Hello, Matanza. I've been waiting a long time to meet you..." The woman's voice was full of reverence, and she had an accent that PJ guessed originated in Mexico or one of the Latin American countries. She was speaking quietly, but her voice came across loud and clear to PJ's sensitive werewolf ears.

There were certain risks that not even the Darewolf would take, and meeting Matanza Cueto alone was high on his list. What kind of person-besides Dario-would dream of doing such a thing?

The werewolf shook his head, relieved when the woman fell silent for several minutes so he could get back to work without the distraction of her voice. It was bad enough that both her heart and Matanza's were pumping fast with excitement and the latter kept making obscene noises...

PJ inhaled the stale air and nearly gagged. The predominant scents in the office-besides blood and death-were shock, terror, and masculine human energy. There was also evidence that a few women had stopped by recently. He attributed most of that to Dario, but some of it was too fresh or too female to come from either the deceased or his murderer. A third man had entered the office earlier today, but his scent was unfamiliar...His nose picked up on faint odor of decay that Catrina wore like a favorite perfume.

 _Catrina? I thought those two_ hated _each other..._ She had probably come there on business and either found Dario dead or left shortly before his assassin arrived.

The other female visitor-he was positive she was the one upstairs with Matanza, because her scent was overpowering compared to the others-had been inside the office probably mere minutes before. She was human, yet she appeared to be the source of the magic lingering in the air. There was a delicious berry fragrance that clung to her from what he guessed was her shampoo or body wash, along with a hint of chocolate, and her visit to the office had left behind pangs of grief and worry. Between her emotions and those of the man who was here today, it was hard to get a read on what either the shooter or Catrina had been feeling when they last interacted with Dario.

What PJ gleaned from his brief excursion to his late employer's office was that his killer was human and rather unemotional, Catrina had paid Dario a brief visit, and another, panic-stricken human male had been the most recent visitor after the mystery woman. He frowned at the desk, remembering how Taya had told him Dario had been having a drink with the man who killed him, but there was only one glass left behind, and it was on Dario's side of the desk. And shouldn't there be bullet casings lying around somewhere? PJ walked all around the office, careful to avoid the bloodstains near the chair, but there were no casings to be found.

He caught sight of the bullet holes in the chair, along with more blood, and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Many years had passed since his father's violent death, but the pain of losing him never fully went away.

"You know," the female voice piped up, mercifully cutting into his morbid thoughts, "you _really_ shouldn't look at your sister like that, Matanza. We're Cuetos-not the Martinez family. Although those two aren't exactly 'friendly' these days," she giggled.

The Darewolf gasped, feeling his hazel eyes pop at the exact same time Matanza let out a surprised grunt. _Sister? An_ _other_ _Cueto?_ PJ thought incredulously. He wondered if she was every bit as sadistic as her brothers, which sibling she favored, and why her accent was so different from the heavy Spanish one Dario spoke with. Well, _ha_ _d_ spoken with...The man was dead now.

"That's right: I'm your half-sister. We have the same father." She let her revelation sink in for a few moments before adding, "My name is Gabriela." She pronounced her name _Ga_ _h-bree-el-a,_ and PJ guessed that was the Spanish version. "Papa told me all about you...And someday, I'll tell you my story."

PJ sighed with disappointment. He had hoped to learn more about the Cueto woman while he was around to eavesdrop on her one-sided conversation.

"I bet you're _starving_ , huh? Here." Paper crinkled, and PJ was hit with a blast of chocolate as Gabriela unwrapped either a candy or protein bar. "Next time, I promise to bring you something you'll really like." Another wrapper was torn open seconds later, increasing the mouthwatering aroma in the air.

The werewolf turned off the light, abandoned Dario's former office, and sought out the undercover cop-turned-luchador. If he hurried, he might have a chance to speak with Dario and Matanza's sister before she left. True to his word, Reyes was blocking the entrance door, waiting just inside the Temple and probably more than ready to get the hell out of there.

"You can go ahead and leave if you want," PJ told him after quickly filling him in on what he learned. He omitted any mention of Gabriela. "I, uh, think I left something in the locker room last night...I'll be right back."

PJ left him there without waiting for a response and was glad to hear the door open and close soon after. Instead of going to the locker room, he headed for the staircase leading to the room where Dario kept his "baby brother" locked away. Only a Cueto would be crazy enough to willingly get up close and personal with the monster Matanza. He paused by the door to remove the gloves and shoe covers and stuff them in the pockets of his jeans, then wrapped his bandana around his hand before twisting the doorknob. As a member of the Cueto family, Gabriela probably wouldn't open up to him if she mistook him for an undercover cop.

His intuition tried to warn him that she was potentially dangerous and it was best to steer clear of her, but his impulsive nature compelled him to meet the woman and ask a few questions. He listened to her voice grow louder and clearer as he ascended the staircase.

"Poor Matanza," sighed Gabriela. "You must get so lonely all by yourself...Believe me, I know the feeling. But don't worry: I'll visit you every chance I get. We have a lot of lost time to make up for." She paused. "I'm sure you probably don't trust me-or even believe me-but that's okay. I know I'm a stranger to you, and you have...issues with women. But I'm nothing like the women who hurt you in the past. You'll see."

PJ finally reached the top and pushed open the ajar door as quietly as he could. Gabriela was facing away from him, looking into her brother's cell from only a few feet away. It was closer than he was comfortable with. All the South African saw at first was a black-clad, short yet lithe figure with crimson-highlighted, black waves hanging halfway down her back. She finally turned around to see why Matanza was snarling like a rabid dog, and PJ's heart nearly stopped then and there.

The young woman was _gorgeous_. Right away, he could see the family resemblance. Gabriela possessed the same deep brown irises as her brothers, set under full eyebrows just like Dario's-only hers were artfully tweezed. She was blessed with a feminine version of her oldest brother's build, but the fiery intensity of her gaze was pure Matanza. Her nose-accented with a gleaming gold stud on the left side-and red lips were different, though; her cheekbones, higher; and her skin was a lighter shade of olive than either brother's. PJ assumed those traits had been inherited from her mother.

He was suddenly ashamed of himself for admiring her beauty when one of her siblings had recently been murdered. Did she even know what happened to Dario? If not, well, it wasn't his place to break the news to her...

"What are _you_ doing here, werewolf?" she snapped after jumping and letting out a surprised shriek. PJ's breath hitched as she slid one hand into a black leather purse that probably had a designer label attached. What if she was reaching for pepper spray or a gun-or some kind of supernatural weapon? He could use his reflexes and strength to subdue her if needed, but he would prefer to diffuse the situation before it escalated. "And how much did you overhear, anyway?" she asked with narrowed eyes before he could answer her first question.

"Um, everything?" He instinctively held up his hands, palms outward, in a placating gesture. The waves of hostility and defensiveness rolling off of her made even him uncomfortable, as did the unblinking stare he received from Matanza. "I swear, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop-"

She interrupted him with an exasperated sigh. "I suppose you can't help it...What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you. Just answer a few questions and I'll leave you alone." He gave her a disarming smile. "Promise."

"Fine," she huffed after a tense minute or so of deliberation, and slowly withdrew her hand from her purse. PJ sensed that this was a woman who had deep trust issues and good reason to be suspicious of others, yet she was bold enough to stand near both a werewolf and a monster without an ounce of fear. _My kind of woman._ "But let's go somewhere more...private," she added pointedly.

"Sure." He almost suggested the locker room, but Reyes might look for him there if he stayed too long. Maybe they could talk in the janitor's closet...It wasn't ideal, but it sure beat either of the bathrooms.

Having decided that PJ didn't pose a threat to his younger sister, Matanza turned his attention back to the chocolate. He was balancing one unwrapped protein bar in each hand and studying them like he wasn't sure what to do with them. PJ wondered what he usually ate. Raw meat? Human flesh?

There were some things even the Darewolf was squeamish about, and Matanza's diet was one of them.

"I'll see you soon, brother," Gabriela called over her shoulder as she trailed PJ out of the room. "Incredible, isn't he? So... _powerful_..." He glanced back at her, and the enthralled look on her face and the hushed awe in her voice made his skin crawl. She acted like she had just met _God_ as opposed to connecting with a family member she had never met.

"Yeah, he is." He led the way down the stairs, hearing Gabriela's footsteps behind him. It was probably a stupid idea to turn his back on a Cueto-especially one he didn't know-but PJ Black was all about taking risks.

PJ opened the door once he reached the bottom of the dark staircase and had just reentered the main part of the Temple when something odd happened. He heard rustling behind him, followed by the barely perceptible sound of something clicking into place, and his nose was assaulted by that smoky, magical odor again. He turned around and was astonished to discover that Gabriela had vanished, although he could still hear her heartbeat, and she was close enough that he could feel her breath warm his skin.

"What the-" His exclamation was cut off mid-sentence when the now-invisible woman placed a hand on his forehead and began to chant rapidly in Spanish. At least, PJ _thought_ it sounded like Spanish. Splitting pain immediately shot through his skull, accompanied by a wave of dizziness, and his vision started to blur.

 _I hope I see her again,_ was his last conscious thought before he hit the floor.

The next thing he knew, Reyes was leaning over him, shaking him awake and saying his name repeatedly in a freaked out tone.

"You all right? What the hell happened?"

"I'm fine." Actually, he had a slight headache and felt in need of a nap. He waved off the human's offer of an extended hand and slowly got back on his feet. "I guess I just...fainted." He was still clutching his bandana, although he had no memory of removing it in the first place.

"Nobody attacked you?" The cop looked skeptical, and PJ couldn't blame him. For one thing, it was his job-but he also probably had enough knowledge of the supernatural to know that werewolves weren't prone to passing out.

PJ shrugged. "Not that I remember."

"Where's the stuff I gave you?" All he got in return was a blank stare. "The gloves and shoe covers?"

"Huh? Oh, those..." PJ patted his bulging pockets and emptied them. He found the missing gloves in the left side and the shoe covers in the right. "Weird. I don't remember taking them off..."

"Seems like there's a lot you don't remember," Reyes noted.

"Yeah..." He scratched his head as he scanned his recent memories, but there was a sizeable gap where there should have been an explanation for how he wound up unconscious on the sticky floor. However, he vividly recalled driving to the Temple, meeting with the detective, sniffing out Dario's office...Then waking up outside of it.

 _God, it's like the morning after the full moon..._ This time, however, he was fully clothed, only his head ached, and he had awoken inside the Temple as opposed to outdoors.

The other man frowned as he glanced around. "Huh. Maybe it's just the negative energy in this place."

"Maybe," PJ mumbled. "There's definitely a lot of _that_ here." But, as the two walked into the sunshine, he had a nagging suspicion that his fainting spell and subsequent amnesia had little, if anything, to do with the bad vibes in his workplace.

* * *

"I'm not much of a witch, am I?" Dario muttered, dejected after multiple failed attempts to perform magic without relying on the key. He began to pace back and forth across the gray-carpeted living room floor.

"You are a novice," Catrina corrected him from her position in the armchair, "and the only way to improve is through practice."

He stopped pacing, still despondent but unable to keep a smirk from forming. "You know, I never expected to receive life coaching from the undead." Then again, he had never expected to _become_ one of the undead, either-or a witch, for that matter.

"I have learned a few things after being around for so long."

Dario wanted to ask exactly how long that was, but he knew that a woman's age could be a sensitive, even dangerous, subject to bring up. He calculated that Catrina must be at least a few hundred years old if her mother was around a thousand.

As a human, he couldn't even fathom having unlimited time on his hands. He wondered whether the stone had given him immortality unless he was killed again or had just extended his lifespan to what it should have been without Winter's intervention.

"But I'm giving myself a headache trying-and failing-to move things around," he complained. "Why isn't it working?" If he couldn't master simple parlor tricks, how in the world was he supposed to defend himself against homicidal ghosts and zealous Order members?

"Try using the key," Catrina suggested after a long, thoughtful pause. "Like you did when you were experimenting with the candles."

"That's the only thing that works," he grumbled. "The problem is, I can't seem to do magic without it..." But Catrina just stared at him, waiting for him to do _something_ , so Dario turned towards the bookcase and selected a book at random. He squinted at the book's red, worn spine while gripping his key and willing the book to come to him.

He was just about to give up on the idea when the volume left the bookcase and flew through the air. His reflexes kicked in at the last possible second, and he let go of the key just in time to catch the book and avoid a black eye. "It seems that the key is the secret," he concluded with reluctance.

Catrina nodded solemnly. "It would appear so."

Dario frowned as he set the book down on the coffee table and began fiddling with the key. "Maybe my magic doesn't work right because I died and came back-"

"You should be grateful you can do magic at all," his companion advised with a touch of impatience. "You couldn't before, and that is unfortunate, but what you _can_ do now is likely more than enough to help you-to help _us_."

"Let's hope so." He forced a smile, a little embarrassed over acting so...petulant and insecure. "I guess I'm lucky you haven't tried to slap some sense into me."

She studied him with her head tilted slightly. "I wouldn't dream of ruining what is left of your face."

Dario self-consciously touched the scabbed-over scratches and winced slightly. In his quest to learn magic, he had all but forgotten about the injuries Mama had inflicted on him. Now they served as a reminder of just how important it was to develop his powers.

Papa had been scarred when Mama attacked him with a knife in a drunken rage, and Dario realized that his both he and his father had been lucky. An ugly scar was _nothing_ compared to what could have happened to either man...

Catrina, meanwhile, was acting strangely even for her. She tipped her head in the other direction, closed her eyes briefly, then opened them with a distracted look on her face. It was as if she was listening to something-or someone-only she could hear, and that made Dario edgy. Shouldn't he be able to sense whatever it was, too?

"What's wrong?"

"Mil has summoned me," she explained with both visual and audible frustration as she stood up with the grace of a cat. "I fear that he is growing suspicious of my long absences and believes I am with another man." She smiled at the irony. "I must go to him and put his mind at ease. What shall I tell him?"

Dario shuddered. "Anything, so long as he doesn't subject me to a thousand deaths." Catrina made it sound like she and Dario were having an affair and Mil was the jealous husband who would kill them both if he found out. Dario knew the Man of a Thousand Deaths wouldn't react calmly to learning another man was _just_ living with Catrina...

She came over and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I would not let him kill you even once."

 _You wouldn't have said that before last night,_ Dario thought, but he smiled at her in gratitude. "I'm glad you feel that way." In her own way, Catrina was as intimidating as Matanza, and Dario now felt just as safe with her around as he did in the presence of his brother. As long as he continued to spill the Order's secrets, the woman had a powerful incentive to protect him.

"I will be back shortly...I hope," she added darkly. Dario nodded and gulped back the inevitable panic that surfaced whenever she left him alone. Then she was gone in a flash of electricity.

While he awaited Catrina's return, Dario opted to take a little break from his magic studies. He went over to the window and pulled the curtains aside to look out. The sunlight streaming in through the dirty glass hurt his eyes. Until then, he hadn't realized just how _dark_ Catrina's apartment was. There was a nice, if bare, balcony calling to him, but he heard Agent Winter's "We're everywhere" remark inside his head and envisioned stepping out on the balcony and being spotted immediately by Order spies.

Or maybe his mother would just sneak up on him from behind and shove him over the railing, letting him fall to his death...

He suffered a rush of homesickness for the Temple. It, too, gave off dark and eerie vibes, but his office was brightly lit, and the decor was of his choosing. Most importantly, Matanza was there. It pained Dario to think of how confused and upset his baby brother must be by his short, sporadic visits, not to mention Rey's escape. Maybe he could talk to Catrina about-

"Ah!" Dario nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped him on the shoulder and a feminine voice whispered his name. He whirled around, certain it was too soon for Catrina to return and anticipating yet another violent encounter with his late mother, but the phantom he encountered was a stranger. She didn't frighten him like Mama, but her gruesome appearance was enough to give him chills.

She flickered like a lightbulb about to go out, as if it took a great deal of energy for her to stay visible. At first, all Dario could see was the front of her once-white blouse, which was soaked red from massive blood loss. His gaze slowly, and reluctantly, traveled upward, and it became evident that the source of the blood was a deep gash across the center of the woman's throat. Above her mortal wound was the somber, bruised face of a pretty, thirty-something Latina with medium-length, chocolate brown curls and tears in her eyes.

"Help me, Dario," she begged in Spanish. Although Dario didn't recognize her, the ghost obviously knew _him_ -or knew _of_ him-and she was also aware that he had been touched by death. He had been involved with many women over the years-mostly one night stands and escorts-and it was impossible to remember all of their names and faces. Had she been one of them?

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" he demanded.

She switched to English when he responded in that language. "Help me save her." It seemed to him that she was struggling to make her request for some reason. From what little he heard, he was able to ascertain that she had picked up an accent from outside of the United States-the only clue he had to her identity.

"Save who?" Dario was relieved to finally encounter a spirit who had no intention of dragging him back to the Other Side, but he couldn't understand why she had come to _him_ of all people for assistance. He wasn't exactly known for being selfless and showing compassion to women...Maybe she had witnessed him playing around with magic and needed a witch to do a spell for her.

"Gabriela. Your-" Her explanation was cut off abruptly when she let out a piercing scream and shrank away from him, causing Dario's heart to pound. She was staring at something to the side of him, her brown eyes round, and she had covered her mouth with one hand.

"You again! Haven't you caused enough trouble?" The irritated male voice entering the conversation sounded suspiciously like that of Lawrence Delgado and came from behind nearby. No wonder the female ghost had screamed...Dario threw a quick, nervous glance in that direction, but he couldn't see anyone.

When he turned back to ask the stranger who "Gabriela" was and why she needed saving, he discovered that she had vanished. That slimy bastard Delgado must have scared her off with his missing head...Not that her slashed throat and bloody shirt were exactly a pleasant sight to behold...

 _Damn it! Just when things were getting interesting..._ Dario thought in dismay.

"I'm glad Cage punched through your face, Delgado," he muttered to the dead councilman, but, since there was no response, Dario assumed he had left. Perhaps he was chasing the woman far away from Catrina's place. If his words were any indication, this wouldn't be the first time she had stuck her nose where he felt it didn't belong.

The urgency in the woman's voice and the anguish in her dark eyes stayed with him long after she must have crossed back to the Other Side. He was intrigued enough by her request to want to learn more, although he wasn't ready to commit to anything just yet. Helping out a ghost who had angered someone from the Order would probably expose Dario to all sorts of dangers, and he wasn't going to take unnecessary risks without a damned good reason to do so.

"Come back later when Catrina-the undead woman-is here," he suggested, in case his visitor was waiting just behind the veil that separated the living from the dead and could still hear him. "That prick won't bother you with her around."

Dario smirked and shook his head as he returned to Catrina's bookcase to browse her home library. He had thought being holed up inside this tiny apartment would get boring and claustrophobic really fast, but, between talking with Catrina, learning magic, and the parade of dead visitors, there had hardly been a dull moment.

It amused him to realize that there were two "damsels in distress"-Catrina would surely hit him with her stone if she knew he had thought of her as such-who had recently come to him for help. Him-a man who had lifelong issues with women! And, although Dario already had his hands full with ruining the Order and figuring out how to use his new powers, he was open to assisting the aggrieved ghost and "Gabriela," whoever she might be.

Dario smiled to himself as he perused the bookshelves. He kind of liked playing the hero for a change.

* * *

Mil was kneeling before his elaborate, candlelit altar when Catrina found him. The odor of melting wax hung in the air, and the heat was nearly as oppressive as the jealousy in his gruff voice when he spoke.

"Who is he?" he demanded without standing or turning to look at her. "Tell me his name."

"What are you talking about?" Catrina was outwardly calm even as her mind raced. Someday, she might have no choice but to tell him about her arrangement with Dario-only not without the latter's permission, and not when Mil was already seething over some perceived threat.

Mil lumbered to his feet and faced her. If possible, his scarlet eyes were full of more murderous rage than usual. "The man you are spending all your time with. Jeremiah Crane? Fenix? _Who is it_?" He took a menacing step forward, but Catrina refused to back down. Mil generally preferred to let his actions speak for him, so he must have been infuriated to engage in a verbal confrontation.

"I was not with a man." At least, not the way he was envisioning...Still, he would be livid if he had witnessed the many-albeit innocent-touches she had bestowed upon Dario to offer reassurance or consolation. "I was busy retrieving the gauntlet and taking it to my mother."

That shocked Mil into forgetting about the possibility of a new man in Catrina's world-at least for the moment. "You found it?"

"Yes. Cuerno's invisible thief took it to the Order's leader. It was inside his mansion." Catrina considered herself lucky that she had gotten in and out without incident. She had taken a risk that could have resulted in her being trapped inside and magically tortured by the deranged cult leader.

"Did he...see you?"

Catrina shook her head. "I was careful, and he was not at home." Her fingertips absently brushed the broken Piedra Immortal amulet hanging from the gold chain around her neck. Too late, she recalled that her mother was supposed to return the rest of it in exchange for the gauntlet.

Mil noticed and directed a questioning look at the amulet. "Where is the other half?"

She was forced to answer the question, but she could choose how much information to share. "My mother is holding onto it. I have learned that the Order wants a female host body next"-Mil's red irises blazed like hellfire, and a deep growl rose in his chest in response-"and I feel less vulnerable like this. When the Order is vanquished, I will finally become immortal." Being stuck between this world and the next was dreadful, but it was still better than sharing her body with a goddess who would consume her mind and soul until the old Catrina was nothing more than a shell...It was possible that not even the Piedra Immortal was powerful enough to spare her that fate.

Or was it? Hadn't her grandfather told her mother that the amulet was supposed to stop the prophecy from coming to fruition? Then again, Marie had been a child when her dying father had bequeathed the Piedra Immortal to her...She hadn't been under consideration to become a vessel at the time.

Catrina realized that she needed to have another discussion with Marie-and soon.

Mil took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. He was only in his forties-a mere child in comparison to her-but some of his mannerisms and attitudes made him seem as old as Catrina herself. "You deserve it, my queen." One hand came up and formed a massive fist. "I will slaughter anyone who touches you-including Crane and Fenix."

"I am not interested in them," she insisted. Mil's violent jealousy, once flattering, was growing tiresome. Catrina continued to have moments of longing for Fenix, but even she had to admit that Melissa Santos was better suited to him. As for Jeremiah...She couldn't return his feelings for her any more than she could return Mil's, but he put himself in danger as long as he insisted on pursuing her.

Mil's determination to learn the identity of the "other man" responsible for stealing Catrina's time made her nervous.

"Mil Muertes and Catrina are a team," continued the undead woman. "Together, we are an unstoppable force." She pressed her cheek to his and murmured in his ear, "No man could possibly take your place." That much was true.

The problem was, she and Dario had formed another team, and, with the threat of literal Aztec warfare hanging over their heads, she needed to spend most of her time with her former enemy interrogating him about the Order and helping him learn to harness his witch magic.

But it wouldn't matter to Mil that there was no intimacy between Dario and Catrina, or that the only shared bond they had was based on bringing the Order to its knees. Her decision to allow another man to live with her for _any_ reason would be unacceptable to Mil.

The earthquake Pascual Mendoza had survived would be _nothing_ compared to the wreckage a jealous and vengeful Mil Muertes would leave in his wake.

When Catrina pulled away, Mil locked eyes with her, and she was pleased to see that she had gotten through to him. Yes, he believed her story...for now.

"Save your energy for the war against the Order," she cautioned. "They pose a greater threat to both of us than anyone else-including the men you speak of."

Catrina dared to kiss him then-the kind of kiss that would leave no doubt in his mind that he was the only man for her. In the past, she had kissed Jeremiah and Fenix with the same intent. In her experience, a man would do _anything_ for a woman who gave him the impression that her heart belonged to him or could belong to him someday.

With a parting smile, she teleported back to her neighbor's apartment to pick up another black shirt or two to reward Dario for being so cooperative. As she dug through his articles of clothing, it occurred to her that, for the first time in her long existence, Catrina was genuinely torn between two men-but not because she was in love with either.

If she must choose between them, she would probably choose Dario-at least until the Order was a thing of the past-but she hoped she would never be put in that position. To defeat the Order, Catrina needed Mil's supernatural brute strength and viciousness every bit as much as Dario's insider knowledge and magical powers.

Mil, Dario, Jeremiah, Fenix...Because of their individual connections to her, Catrina felt obligated to protect them all. Not just from the Order, but from each other as well.

Stopping a doomsday cult of deranged witches and brainwashed minions almost sounded easy compared keeping her allies from killing one another...


	10. The Devil's Daughter

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Now that Papa Cueto has officially debuted on the show, I'll be referring to him as Antonio, and his appearance will match that of his on-screen character**.

* * *

Antonio had not expected to receive company after dark, and he certainly hadn't anticipated a visit from his only daughter. Yet, with his right eye-the one not clouded over by a cataract-he could clearly see her on the black-and-white security monitor footage, standing on his front porch with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

He remembered then that he was supposed to be grieving his dead son instead of plotting against whatever remained of him.

 _She probably thinks I'm falling to pieces right about now..._ In the past, Antonio had played the role of a heartbroken husband to perfection-to this day, he still wore his wedding band-and now it was time to step into the role of bereaved father. No problem. Elena's "disappearance" had prepared him for this moment.

On the bright side, he did have some news to share with Gabriela that would change the course of her life-the kind of news best delivered in person. But Antonio also had plans for the evening that didn't involve a second party, and, judging by the stuffed appearance of her bag, he feared that the girl intended to stay awhile.

He stored his copy of the _Death Magic_ book inside the drawer of the side table and reluctantly left his comfortable armchair. With the help of a cane that doubled as a weapon-for beating as well as stabbing with the retractable blade inside-he made his way over to the front door.

"I'm sorry about Dario, Papa," Gabriela blurted out before he could inquire about her reason for visiting him. Underneath the harsh glow of the porch light, her dark brown eyes were dry but red-rimmed, like she had been crying earlier. He believed her sorrow to be genuine, but it was more likely concern over her parents than grief for her recently murdered brother. She adjusted the strap of the gym bag and gave her sole remaining parent a tender look. "That's why I'm here. You shouldn't be alone right now. Family should be there for each other in times of crisis."

"Well, I appreciate the support," he remarked in the quieter version of his gravelly voice that he used around his daughter. He gave her a strained smile as he eyed her bulging bag. "I take it you're going to stay the night." Her timing couldn't have been worse: tonight, Antonio had planned to uncover the truth about Dario-dead, undead, or miraculously alive-snuff out his son's pathetic life if he still had one, and either obliterate or trap his ghost.

"Longer, if I have to. May I come in?" She hoisted the strap higher up on her shoulder, looking pained. "This bag is getting heavy."

"Of course." He reluctantly stepped aside, gripping the customized bull's head topper on his cane to help support his weight. "We do live in the same neighborhood, you know. You can visit any time you like."

The young woman smiled, and it was the exact same smile on the exact same lips as her late mother's, only painted red. "I already do."

The Cueto patriarch closed and locked the front door with a sigh, then made his way back to his chair while Gabriela set her belongings down and claimed the sofa. In her knee-length, sleeveless black dress and heels, she looked as elegant as her father was unkempt, yet she never judged him beyond the occasional teasing about it being past time for a haircut, shave, or new wardrobe. From where he sat, he could see the black bull tattoo on her left calf. He could just barely make out the blue shading on the animal and its blood red eyes. Gabriela also had another animal tattoo on her right bicep-the animal affiliated with her tribe-although it was currently hidden beneath her long hair.

"I'm glad you stopped by, Gabriela. I know we talked on the phone earlier, but I was so upset over finding evidence of Dario's murder in his office that I couldn't think straight..." Sympathy was written all over her face. "Now that I've had time to come to terms with what happened, I realize what must be done." In addition to destroying everything that was left of his perpetual failure of a son...

Gabriela looked at him expectantly, her manicured hands clasped in her lap, and waited in silence for him to elaborate.

"With Dario dead, it's important that the Temple remain in hands of the Order as well as the Cueto family. I thought about taking over myself, but, for obvious reasons, I'm probably not the best candidate." Antonio smiled at his daughter, whose eyes had become wide as saucers when she realized what he was about to tell her. "That's why you are in charge of the Temple now."

"Papa, I...I don't know what to say," she murmured after a long moment of sitting in stunned silence.

"How about 'thank you'?"

"Th-Thank you," she stammered. "I really am grateful for the opportunity...I guess I'm just in shock."

"I regret having to put you in such a dangerous situation, but I have confidence that you can handle any problems that may arise. Once the police have concluded their investigation and the Temple is reopened"-or relocated, if necessary, and Antonio had a place in mind that would be perfect-"you will be spending much of your time there. However, I also expect you to continue doing magic for the Order on demand."

She nodded solemnly. "Of course. It's an honor to serve the Order any way I can."

Antonio knew Gabriela was thinking about her unrealized dream, and it was time to address the elephant in the room. "I know you want nothing more than to become a host, but remember: the gods and goddesses are the ones who decide your destiny." Actually, between swearing the use of her powers to the gods and putting a hit on Dario, Antonio himself had sealed his daughter's fate. Part of his motivation for handing the Temple over to her was knowing that she couldn't be the owner and promoter as well as a goddess, and it was a huge weight lifted off of his shoulders. The gods, the goddesses, and especially her father depended on Gabriela remaining a witch. "And it seems that they have other plans for you."

She nodded again, looking forlorn. "It would appear so." But Gabriela had always accepted the responsibilities she was given without complaint, and she would soon be too busy to mope over having to give up her insane plan.

Antonio leaned forward in his chair. "Promise me that you will take every precaution. The Temple is a perilous place, and, as a Cueto, you will inherit your brothers' enemies-and mine, too. Always wear charmed jewelry, and make sure to brush up on your defensive magic."

"I will. I promise." His suggestion of charmed jewelry caused Gabriela to involuntarily touch the gold, heart-shaped amulet she wore on a gold chain around her neck. Her father had given it to her on her thirteenth birthday. Not coincidentally, that was also the day she received her powers. It was a relief to know that she still followed his instructions never to take it off. Even when it appeared she wasn't wearing it, she reassured him that the necklace was merely tucked inside her clothing.

If she ever discovered the true meaning behind his gift, she would destroy the amulet instantly-and her father along with it.

"Also, you _must_ find a way to make Matanza respect your authority." He smacked his cane against the floor for emphasis. Dario had always refused to raise a hand to his brother-hence his dependence on the key's power-but their father preferred beatings and magical torture methods to keep his monstrous son in line. In that sense, the girl was similar to Dario: she cared too much about Matanza to use violence against him or even verbally bully him into compliance. Antonio was certain that the cutthroat environment at the Temple would soon eradicate the few weaknesses Gabriela had inherited from Elena. "He will be your greatest ally at the Temple...Probably your only ally."

"But Dario was wearing the key when he..." She trailed off with an uneasy look at Antonio's face-probably expecting it to crumble with grief at the mention of his deceased son. "How am I supposed to control Matanza without it?"

"The key is forged with Cueto magic. The power within Matanza is drawn to the power inside of the key, and being a blood relative to the host strengthens that connection. Fortunately, I have a spare. We can infuse it with some of your own magic." A little of her blood and an incantation would be sufficient.

She frowned. "Who's going to feed him in the meantime? I don't want you climbing all those stairs..."

"You can-as long as you wear the invisibility bracelet you used to procure the gauntlet. Just keep your distance. It will take awhile for Matanza to trust you." Given that both of his parents had abused him and his brother had kept him confined to a cell most of the time, it would be a miracle if Matanza _ever_ warmed up to another family member. Still, Dario had brought out whatever humanity was left in Matanza by caring about him, and, although Gabriela had the potential to weaken him further, Antonio hoped that learning he had a little sister in need of protection would cause Matanza's savage side to take over.

Gabriela nodded, her face flushed, and Antonio suspected that she had already snuck out to the Temple to meet her other brother. He didn't blame her for wanting to meet the only other living relative she had left in America-even if all that was left of him was the meat suit.

"If...If there's anything you need, or anything I can do for you..." Gabriela examined the first floor layout and the staircase with critical eyes and pursed lips before looking into her father's haggard face again. Antonio didn't need to be a psychic to know she was thinking this house was too big for him, and had too many stairs, and it would be better for him if they were to live together. It was a suggestion she had made before, and he had immediately turned down her offer.

He hoped she would soon realize her presence wasn't needed here, because living with her had grown increasingly difficult as she aged. Antonio hadn't forgotten how Gabriela used to help herself to his liquor and cocaine, or how almost every night he had awoken to his daughter screaming or sobbing-or both-following a nightmare about her mother. Having her around for even a few days and nights would be an inconvenience, but he was willing to suffer if it convinced her he had nothing to do with Dario's shooting.

"I will let you know," he grunted, and Gabriela was smart enough to drop the subject. She had learned a long time ago that arguing with her father ultimately meant conceding. Regardless of her past attempts to persuade him otherwise, Antonio still had long hair, the two continued to live separately, and Gabriela wasn't yet possessed by a goddess. He dismissed her concerns with a wave of the hand. "Don't worry about me. I'll get through this somehow...After all, this isn't the first time I've lost someone close to me," he remarked without thinking. His daughter looked as shocked as if he had just struck her with his cane, and that's when it dawned on him how insensitive his last sentence sounded. "I'm sorry, child. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know," she answered in a husky tone, her gaze downcast. _Sensitive, like her mother_ , Antonio thought derisively, although he could overlook that flaw because she was such a valuable asset. Gabriela was destined to bring back the deities, oversee the Temple and Lucha Underground, and carry on her sacred bloodlines with an Order member of Antonio's choosing-all of which would redeem her father in the eyes of the deities he had offended.

That was more than his useless son Dario could ever dream of achieving. But at least his body could serve a purpose in death: feeding the maggots and worms. Antonio consoled himself with the fact that he still had his gifted daughter and another son who was more god than man to make up for the bitter disappointment that was Dario.

He was starting to become impatient and restless. The only thing he wanted to do at the moment was to dispose of his worthless son once and for all. But the elder Cueto no longer had the energy to stay up all night researching and casting spells and hexes, and, even if he excused himself to his downstairs bedroom, Gabriela might overhear him chanting and insist on knowing what he was doing-

"Papa, I was wondering..." His youngest child's Mexican accent interrupted his internal debate, and he glanced over at the distressed woman. "Do you think there's a curse on our family?"

"A curse?"

"First Mama disappears, and now Dario..." She wrung her hands as she spoke in an urgent, hurried tone. "What if something happens to you next? Or me? Or even Matanza?"

"There is no curse on the Cueto family," he said firmly, "and no connection between your mother's disappearance and Dario's murder. Nobody knows what happened to your mother...Believe me, I've tried every method I can think of to find out, and I'm sure you have, too." Gabriela nodded, and Antonio uneasily noted that the young woman's eyes were wet with unshed tears. He was eager to shift the focus of the conversation away from Elena. "But your brother's death, while tragic, isn't exactly surprising. He made enemies out of almost everyone he met and foolishly flaunted his wealth in a rough neighborhood.

"Even if there _was_ a curse, the rest of us don't have anything to fear. Matanza has the strength of a god, and you and I can protect ourselves with magic." Again, he glanced at her bag, hoping to divert her attention. "Did you bring your sketches of the luchadora belt?"

Gabriela's gloomy expression lifted at once. "Yes, I did. I meant to show you those earlier..." She pulled a sketchbook out of her bag, walked over to the armchair, and proceeded to show her father three different ideas she had come up with.

They were impressive designs using colored pencils, rich with detail and expertly shaded. All those hours Elena had spent teaching Gabriela how to draw had not gone to waste. _Such talent. She_ _could have gone to art school,_ Antonio found himself thinking, but, of course, what his daughter was doing with her life instead was infinitely more meaningful than being a starving artist.

They talked for a little while longer before Antonio excused himself: "I'm not as young as I used to be and I need my sleep. Why don't you go upstairs to your old room and start unpacking? I'll see you in the morning." At least this way he wouldn't be just down the hall if she awoke in hysterics...He would also have the privacy needed to cast spells. He smiled at her, noting that she was starting to look a little tired herself. "You should probably get some rest, too."

"All right." Her features conveyed both disappointment and understanding. "Goodnight, Papa. I love you." The last three words came out in a whisper, as Antonio discouraged open displays of affection. He watched the girl zip her sketchbook inside the duffel bag and slowly haul her heavy stash up the staircase.

Antonio sighed. _I_ _don't deserve her-and I didn't deserve her mother, either. The gods have been good to me._

With his daughter upstairs and out of the way, Antonio was free to concentrate on learning his oldest son's fate-and changing it if he didn't like what he saw. Instead of retreating to his downstairs bedroom-it had been the guest bedroom before navigating stairs became difficult for him-he retrieved _Death Magic_ from the drawer where he had stowed it earlier and let himself into the vault of magic supplies.

If Gabriela knew what he was about to do-and how effortless it was for him-she would demand answers to questions he would rather not be asked.

The spell was a simple one, requiring only a bowl of water, the blood of the spell caster, and something that represented the individual the witch wished to locate. He wasted no time filling a steel bowl halfway with imported bottled water and ripping up a four-by-six color photograph of Dario, then scattering the remains of the print onto the surface. The photo had been taken by Antonio on the day the Temple first opened and showed Dario standing in front of the door to his new office, next to the writing declaring him the proprietor, with a proud grin on his face.

Little did he know that his life would end inside the same office a few short years later because of the beloved parent who had just snapped his picture...

Antonio stood over the table, then slashed his left palm open with an athame and made a fist in order to drizzle his blood into the water. He set the sacred knife aside and leaned over the table to stare intently into the bowl for however long it took.

Eventually, the blood and shredded photograph swirled together in the center of the bowl and transformed into a crystal clear, color film of the present moment. It was jarring to see Dario stretched out on a black sofa in somebody's living room with a book in his hands, looking surprisingly healthy and alert for a man who had taken two bullets to the gut. Antonio's suspicions about Catrina's involvement were confirmed when he glimpsed the sinister beauty sitting in an armchair, legs crossed at the knee, opposite the man who had been her enemy for several years. She said something-watching the scene unfold was like watching a silent movie, minus music and subtitles-that made Dario glance up at her from his book and smirk.

For two individuals who were supposed to loathe each other, they certainly looked _friendly_ at the moment...He could only speculate on Catrina's motives for entering into this bizarre arrangement...

"You will pay for this, Catrina," Antionio muttered as he turned away from the water's surface. "Either by becoming a host body or by death at the hands of a possessed Mil Muertes."

He supposed he was partially at fault for Dario's failings, although it had been the latter's responsibility to make something of himself. Still, his father wondered if the younger man would have turned out differently had he not deprived him of the gift he never knew he was blessed with...

 _"Papa, I don't feel so good," Dario moaned, his eyelids closing yet again. Sweat poured down his unnaturally pale face, and his eyelids fluttered in vain as he fought for his life. One hand feebly reached out to his father, who clutched it after hesitating for a moment._

 _"Hush." Antonio dabbed at his son's sweaty skin with a washcloth soaked in cold water and wrung out, taking care to avoid disturbing the enlarged key that rested on his forehead, then dropped the cloth on the nightstand. "Get some rest, son. I promise you will feel better in no time."_

 _Feel better, yes-but, by the time Antonio had completed the spell, his son would never truly feel whole again._

 _He resumed chanting in the old language of his ancestors' enemies, Nahuatl_ : " _Witch's magic, leave my son's body. Key, absorb and bind his powers within."_

 _Like the sun, the key glowed brighter and more golden by the second until it hurt Antonio's eyes to look at it. His eldest son's breathing became labored, and his grip on his father's hand tightened in a spasm of extreme discomfort. The spell was excruciating for the one losing his magic. Done correctly, it would drag the victim to the brink of death without quite pushing him over the edge._

 _Finally, the key resumed its normal coloring, and Antonio knew the magic had taken hold. He collected the key from his son's forehead, feeling the heat from the power consumed as the metal object rested on his palm, and squeezed his fingers around it._

 _Genetically speaking, young Dario was still a witch, but he was now a witch without powers-as defenseless as any ordinary human being._

 _"It's better this way, my boy," Antonio whispered to his eldest son, who was already out cold from exhaustion. "Someone as selfish and reckless as you was never meant to wield such power." He simply couldn't trust the boy to use his magic to serve the Order when he was already focused on achieving his own worldly desires._

After being stripped of his magic, the only power Dario was supposed to have left was the ability to manipulate Matanza, but, dying and being resurrected opened up the possibility of doing more- _much_ more-than communicating with the dead. All he needed was the key and the desire...

Antonio desperately needed to get rid of his firstborn son before he realized his full potential. He slathered some healing salve on his bleeding palm and wrapped a bandage around it while he waited for his broken skin to mend, then sat in a rickety old chair near the table where he had performed the location spell and cracked open _Death Magic_ again.

Ironically, the one thing Dario _had_ succeeded at after a lifetime of failures was cheating death-and he couldn't even do _that_ on his own. But he wouldn't be so lucky the next time he died...Not even Catrina and her magic stone would be able to revive his wretched soul once Antonio figured out a solution.

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident. Dario informed Catrina about his visitor upon her return, and, although she was intrigued, she nonetheless cautioned him not to agree to do anything for the woman until he knew the whole story. He agreed and promptly threw himself into a combination of magic practice and research, but, by the time the hands on the grandfather clock in the living room struck eleven at night, he was forced to admit that he couldn't stay awake much longer waiting for the ghost. He usually stayed up much later than that, so he blamed his fatigued state on hours of attempting magical tricks.

Catrina generously offered him the bed she didn't use, and he crawled under the covers with disappointment. Dario attributed some of his blue mood to a lack of magical prowess. He could make things happen with the key, but, without it, he felt useless.

According to his watch, it was just after midnight when he was awakened by someone shaking him by the shoulder insistently. Catrina's sexy voice cut through his sleepy incoherent panic. "Dario? Wake up, Dario. There is a ghost here who wishes to speak with you." He stared at her, bleary-eyed and uncomprehending, until she added, "I believe it is the woman you told me about yesterday."

He was wide awake now and already shoving aside the covers. "Oh, yes, I remember her. Send her in." Catrina teleported away, and Dario took the opportunity to swing his legs over the side of the bed, stretch, and perch on the end of the bed. The door actually opened, and he was startled by the sight of Catrina and the phantom holding hands as they entered the room, Catrina going first. He noticed that the other woman's hands were coated in blood, like she had clutched at her wounded throat in a fruitless effort to keep herself from bleeding to death.

"She keeps flickering unless we are in physical contact," Catrina explained in response to Dario's puzzled look. He hadn't seen many ghosts, but he got the impression they rarely walked anywhere since they had the option of teleporting. Hadn't Catrina said something about spirits having difficulty crossing over without a strong emotional connection to whomever they were trying to contact?

"I'm sorry for waking you. I had to convince that other ghost I was too scared of him to come back," the dead woman explained as they stopped in front of the open bedroom doorway. Delgado, Dario presumed.

He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn with one hand. "It's fine. So, tell me: who are you and why did you come to me for help?" His brisk, businesslike manner came naturally, like he was conducting a meeting with someone back in his old office.

His visitor spoke in near fluent English and only switched to Spanish whenever a word or phrase eluded her. She seemed nervous, but it was hard to say whether that was from Catrina's proximity or whatever she was about to say.

Her words tumbled out anxiously: "I know this is probably hard to believe, but I'm your stepmother, and you have a younger sister, Gabriela, who is in trouble."

At first, the only response Dario was capable of formulating involved staring at the woman in disbelief. Beside her, the normally stoic Catrina's eyes widened slightly, proving that she, too, had heard the exact same words. Not a dream or hallucination, then.

"I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong man," he said after an incredibly awkward-and prolonged-pause. "I don't have a stepmother _or_ a sister." That was it: a simple case of mistaken identity. Yet, even as he denied her statement, Dario wondered how she could have known his name otherwise, let alone that he was capable of interacting with the dead. He was positive that he had never seen her before yesterday.

"Yes, you do," the ghost insisted. "Gabriela is your half-sister from your father's second marriage-to me. When he lived in Mexico City."

Dario couldn't have been astonished if Agent Winter had burst into the apartment at that very second and shot him again. He automatically began shaking his head in denial even as he recalled how his father enjoyed sharing tales of his life in Mexico-although he never once mentioned a new wife or another child. "My father would have told me if he had another family. I'm sure of it."

"He has kept other important things from you," Catrina reminded him, which Dario couldn't argue with, but he noticed that she, too, looked skeptical.

The spirit bit her lip, looking thoughtful. "Will you believe me if I tell you something only someone close to him would know?"

He shrugged, his confidence already ebbing. "Go on." If his father _had_ gotten remarried, that would explain why he continued to wear a ring long after walking out on Mama...

"You look very much like a younger version of Antonio, but he has a large scar on the left side of his face-right next to his nose. He got it when your mother attacked him with a knife during a fight." She paused, oblivious to Catrina's slightly arched brows while she continued looking into Dario's increasingly wide eyes. "I met him not long after he moved to Mexico City. We got married a few months later, and Gabriela was born the following year." Her gaze fell on the red bull statuette on the coffee table, and she pointed to it. "Your father has one of those in black-"

"I believe you," Dario cut in, shaken to the core. Antonio Cueto didn't tell the humiliating story of the time his ex-wife got the better of him to many people, and, while it wasn't surprising that he would have a bull statue of his own, the female phantom knew its exact color. He was also stunned to realize that his half-sister was most likely the Order's Mexican witch. "What's your name?" Now that she had confirmed they were indeed family, he wanted to refer to her by her proper name.

"Elena."

"Did my father...Did he do _that"-_ Dario gestured to his stepmother's slit throat, unable to speak the words aloud-"to you, Elena?" But he knew the answer in his heart before he finished asking the question. He tried to keep his gaze above Elena's neck when looking at her, as opposed to her gory fatal wound or her blood-drenched blouse and hands.

She nodded, looking traumatized by the memory his question had brought up, and Dario felt sick. "Your father caught me trying to leave him. He was abusive to me, and I didn't want Gabi exposed to either black magic or Antonio's cult." Hearing the Order described as a cult was a terrible shock to Dario's system. "I said I was taking her with me, and Antonio flew into a rage. We argued, he hit me, and then he grabbed a knife..." Tears began to slide down her cheeks, and Dario swallowed hard. Even Catrina looked uncomfortable. "The next thing I knew, I was standing over my own body, watching the man who killed me pray to the Aztec gods he worshiped-the gods of _my_ ancestors-for forgiveness."

Dario squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, understanding that his father's prayer had little, if anything, to do with remorse and was primarily about saving his own soul. He frequently reminded Dario that, between their nationality and the sins of their ancestors, the Cuetos had to work harder than most to appease the gods. Killing an innocent woman with Aztec blood would _not_ look good on Antonio's resume...

"I'm sorry for what he did to you-to both of you." Without Elena around to act as a positive influence, Antonio had been free to fill their daughter's head with his violent ideology and twist her love for him into servitude. "My father is an evil man." He knew that his description of the man was woefully inadequate. There were no words in _any_ language to convey just how despicable his actions were...Again, Dario found himself wondering if his father was behind Agent Winter's decision to pull the trigger. "How did you know I can talk to ghosts, anyway?"

"Gabi went to your office yesterday. I followed her to make sure she wouldn't get into trouble, and that's when I saw the bullet holes in your chair, and the blood..." Elena visibly shuddered. "I feared you might be dead, and I went to check on you after she got home. I was surprised-and relieved-to discover that you weren't a ghost."

"No, I'm not." He wondered what his sister was doing snooping around his office. Had their father instructed her to steal something of his? It didn't seem like the right time to ask. "I _did_ die-briefly-but Catrina here brought me back."

"Dario is the most alive undead individual I have ever met," Catrina declared with just a hint of a smile. Her compliment brought a smirk to the man's face.

"You said you needed my help to 'save' Gabriela," Dario reminded his stepmother. "What, exactly, do you want me to do?" He hoped to the gods she wasn't asking him to perform witchcraft, because he seemed to be learning the magical arts at a snail's pace.

"Talk to her. Give her a message from me-something only the two of us would know-and, when she believes it's me, tell her how I died. Once she knows the truth, she will want nothing more to do with Antonio. Then she will be free."

"Hold on," Dario cut in, feeling more than a little confused. "I'm sure my sister"-the phrase didn't exactly roll off of his tongue-"has used all sorts of spells to try to find you. Why not just tell her yourself?"

Elena smiled sadly. "Because it's not that simple. She has tried many, many times since she first got her powers...I can see and hear her, but she doesn't know I'm there." The tears continued to fall, silently yet steadily. "Please, Dario...Antonio is the only family she's had for most of her life, but, if Gabi knows she has other family members who care, and a safe place to go..." She glanced hopefully at him before turning to Catrina, and her expression became apologetic. "I don't want to impose on either of you-"

"Then you can understand why I am reluctant to bring a witch working for the enemy into my home," Catrina said with a bite in her voice. "Until we are certain that she can be trusted, I would prefer to speak with Gabriela alone and at a different location." Dario started to protest, but Catrina interrupted him, although her head was turned to the right and her attention was focused solely on Elena. "Your stepson's killer is also a member of the Order, and both Dario _and_ his sister could be in danger if someone within the group found out they were meeting in secret." She didn't say it outright, but Dario suspected she was implying that Gabriela might tell Papa or Agent Winter-or both-about how her eldest brother survived the shooting thanks to Catrina and possibly even reveal their location. Maybe she was even hinting at the possibility that his half-sister had orchestrated his murder, although-so far-there was no evidence of that.

While Dario initially resented Catrina for trying to dictate how Cueto family business should be handled, he forced himself to calm down and approach the situation rationally. This was her apartment, not his, and she had every right to decide who was allowed inside and whom to ban. Also, she had a point about Gabriela, who, after years of being bombarded with Order propaganda, might refuse to believe the tragic truth and remain loyal to Antonio. He didn't want to think about what his new sibling might do to him-and Catrina-if _that_ happened.

"What if she decides to leave them-to leave _him_ -and do good with her magic?" Elena pressed.

"Then she will be welcome to meet Dario and stay here if she chooses." Catrina glanced between stepmother and stepson with a wry smile. "It seems that my apartment has become the official safe haven for Cuetos in need of a place to hide."

"Good, because I want to meet her," Dario chimed in somewhat indignantly.

His stepmother looked relieved. "Thank you-both of you."

"What is she like? My sister?" Dario felt like he was still in bed and dreaming as he said the words out loud. It was surreal, reaching his age and only now discovering that he had both a younger half-sister and a stepmother. Maybe he had other half-siblings, too, or step-siblings. Knowing that his father had kept him away from the rest of his immediate family made him all the more determined to bring the son of a bitch down.

Elena smiled with obvious affection for her daughter. "Gabriela is twenty-five now. She is beautiful, intelligent, artistic-I taught her how to draw, but she has natural talent-brave, a powerful witch..." The look of pride on her face suddenly contorted into a look of agony. "She also adores your father and would do _anything_ for him-including use her magic for evil. Unfortunately, she has his temper, too. And her obsession with becoming a goddess frightens me."

Catrina, naturally, looked sickened at the idea of someone pursuing her worst nightmare as a bucket list item. Knowing what had become of Matanza had Dario convinced he didn't want to play host, either-although he had never balked at tricking others into becoming vessels.

"Why does she want to become a goddess?" he blurted out, unable to comprehend the appeal beyond the promise of unlimited power. For a Cueto, that was probably a seductive enough reason to contemplate possession, although neither he nor his father had considered it.

Elena shrugged. "I don't know. What I _do_ know is that Gabi is in a lot of pain. She doesn't know how to cope with her feelings, and, when she gets overwhelmed, she becomes...self-destructive." The grief on her face actually succeeded at touching Dario's heart. For the first time ever, he was witnessing how a mother was supposed to love her children. Not even death had stopped Elena from caring about her daughter and trying to protect her from the evils of this world.

 _My mother could have learned a lot from her..._

"Let me guess: alcohol and cocaine?" Dario's stepmother nodded miserably, and he still grimaced despite anticipating her response. _She's a Cueto, all right._ Yet it didn't sound like Gabriela's vices were mere habits she had picked up out of curiosity and indulged in recreationally. He wondered if she knew of the stash in his office and whether that was her incentive to take a look around.

"And men." Elena wrinkled her nose. "I try to protect her the best I can, but there's only so much I can do now." She gave her stepson a mournful look.

"It sounds like you're trying to save her from herself as well as her father," Catrina remarked.

"Yes, I am. If she keeps going down this path, she'll be lost forever," Elena murmured through tears before using her free hand to dry her face.

 _Lost forever._ That could mean dead from an overdose, possessed by a goddess, or just brainwashed into spending the rest of her life serving Papa and the Order...All equally grim scenarios that made Dario's stomach turn. His half-sister was a complete stranger to him, but, in that moment, he recognized that she was also yet another victim of Antonio Cueto's reign of terror.

Looking into Elena's kindly yet stricken features intensified Dario's desire to get to know his female family members. Yes, he had lost both of his biological parents one way or another, but he still had his baby brother, and now he also had the nurturing mother figure he'd always wanted and a baby sister who needed a stable family as much as he did. Maybe-just maybe-the four of them could come together as a family...But he was getting ahead of himself. There was a very real possibility that one or both of his long lost relatives would learn things about him that they might find unforgivable.

"Any other siblings I don't know about?" he asked to distract himself from the depressing turn his thoughts had taken.

Elena shook her head. "Your father and I both wanted more children, but it wasn't meant to be." She sighed, and a look of profound sadness crossed her face. "Perhaps it's for the best. They would have ended up in his cult, too."

Dario wished she would stop referring to the Order as a cult. It was making him ask all kinds of uncomfortable questions. He had always prided himself on being an intelligent man-and a man who had a divine purpose-and he naïvely assumed that smart people with a direction in life couldn't get brainwashed into joining cults.

Maybe he was wrong. He _thought_ he had seen a book on cults in Catrina's book collection, and now he was itching to read it cover-to-cover. Well, as soon as Elena left and he had taken some time to process everything. His head was spinning at the moment.

"Although you can't meet your sister yet, you can still _see_ her," Catrina piped up unexpectedly. "Show him," she then ordered a bewildered Elena. Apparently, Dario wasn't the only one out of the loop. "Close your eyes, and put your hand on his face while visualizing your daughter."

Elena nodded, leaned over Dario, and laid her right hand over the left side of his face. He shivered at the initial, icy contact. Dario was clueless as to how he should respond, but he decided to close his eyes, too, and promptly received a mental image of a young woman who resembled both of her parents. Her deep brown eyes-like Matanza's, they seemed to burn holes through him-and thick eyebrows were shared with her close male relatives. Dario thought the latter trait was unfortunate on a girl, but she obviously knew how to tame them. He had just seen her more delicate nose and lips on Elena's face, although Gabriela had a subtle nose piercing and wore dark lipstick. Her skin color was similar to both her mother's and Catrina's, and she possessed an impressive mane of black waves with highlights in an unnatural shade of red scattered throughout.

His stepmother's cold, feathery touch suddenly went away, and a dazed Dario opened his eyes.

"She's very pretty," he stated in awe.

"I think so, too," Elena responded in her quiet manner.

"If you like, I could visit her right now," Catrina volunteered. "Simply show me-"

"No." The ghost of Dario's stepmother shook her head vehemently. "Gabi is staying at her father's house. You'll have to wait until she leaves to confront her...Spirits can't get inside, and, even if _you_ can"-that comment was directed at Catrina with a pointed look-"it would be too dangerous."

"My father probably found a way to keep you out after you took the gauntlet," Dario remarked to Catrina. "Anyway, she's most likely asleep right now."

"I'll keep an eye on her and tell you when it's safe," Elena informed Catrina. She turned to Dario again, and her smile contained a trace of mischief this time. "I should let you get back to sleep-if you can. But I promise to come back soon."

Dario returned her smile. "I hope you do." Elena let go of Catrina's hand after he replied and immediately blinked out of the bedroom.

"I know you are disappointed," Catrina began after several minutes of contemplative silence had passed, "but you understand why you must wait-"

"Yes, I understand-although I'm not happy about it," he snapped, and scrubbed a hand over his face in irritation. "I've already missed the first twenty-five years of my own sister's life." And his stepmother had been dead for two decades before their first meeting...

Catrina seemed unmoved. "Then what's a little more time?"

"For a mortal? Too long," he complained, thinking that someone like Catrina-someone who no longer had to face the inevitability of death-would interpret the passage of time very differently from a human being. There was something else bothering him, too, and he just couldn't let it rest. "Catrina...Do you think the Order is a cult?" He wanted-and needed-an objective outsider's perspective, and Catrina wasn't one to sugarcoat things.

"Yes," she answered unflinchingly, "and you are lucky to have escaped. Let's hope that we can persuade your sister to do the same."

* * *

Dario couldn't sleep after Elena's visit, and, since Catrina didn't _need_ to sleep, she kept him company. He sat on the end of the bed and she took the desk chair. When he wanted to talk, she listened, and, when he lapsed into silence, she didn't press him for conversation.

"Why didn't my father tell me?" he asked after having retreated into his own thoughts for awhile. "He had a second family down in Mexico, and he never said anything about them. Not one word." It wasn't the first time Dario had put the question to her.

"Possibly because he is a sadistic, selfish man whose only interest is advancing the Order's cause," she speculated.

"You know, I'm starting to believe he was behind my murder, and not just because of everything he's done to the rest of my family." He looked past her, deep in thought. "In the Order," Dario explained, "there are two unforgivable sins: treason and failure." He lowered his voice and temporarily averted his gaze. "The penalty for both is death."

 _If that doesn't convince you the Order is a cult, then nothing will,_ Catrina thought.

"So, I guess I've earned myself a second death sentence. And I fear that trying to rescue my half-sister could get her killed, too-"

"Then I will bring her back, just as I did for you." It was one of those moments when Catrina realized that she underestimated the fragility of human beings. Witches had impressive supernatural powers, but they were also still human, and their lives could be snuffed out in the blink of an eye. "At least you already know how to be a big brother," she added, thinking her words might console Dario, but he looked even _more_ anxious after she spoke.

"Not to a sister who's already grown." Dario groaned and clutched his forehead with one hand. "Oh, gods...I just realized that Matanza is her big brother, too." He shook his head with an amused smirk that faded almost immediately. "I don't deserve a stepmother like Elena. She would disown me if she knew about my past-"

"You are not the same man you were before you got shot," Catrina argued pragmatically. "That man would _never_ have betrayed the Order, or turned against his father, or agreed to work with his enemies. All your stepmother sees is someone who cares about his family and wants to protect them."

He sighed loudly. "I hope so..." Catrina thought that insecurity was not a good look on Dario. The arrogance that he usually wore like too much of a favorite cologne was grating, yet comforting in its familiarity. But Dario had been subjected to one shock after another, and it was unreasonable to expect him to handle each new obstacle with confidence when he was still reeling from the last bombshell dropped on him. "You know, I'm not the only one starting to change around here," he declared with a smirk that made him more closely resemble the old Dario Cueto.

Catrina smiled faintly. "I suppose choosing to save you as opposed to do you harm could be considered progress..." Although she wouldn't say it to his face, Dario was actually growing on her. His post-death determination to tackle difficult, even potentially dangerous, goals was admirable.

"Oh, it's definitely progress." He went silent for a moment, then glanced up at her with renewed hope in his eyes. "Can you take me to visit Matanza?"

"He's not asleep at this hour?" It was just past one in the morning. The pair had brought him a plate of raw hamburger hours ago and visited a few minutes. Dario hadn't wanted to be gone long in case the female ghost returned, seeking his assistance.

The witch shook his head again with a rueful smile. "He's used to me working long hours and checking on him afterward."

Catrina nodded. "It _has_ been awhile-and there likely won't be anyone there at this hour..." Elena had verified that her husband and their daughter were at his home, and Catrina hoped the police had already investigated the crime scene and moved on to the next one. They both rose, and she took Dario's hand, making him shiver from the coolness of her skin.

A second later, they stood before Matanza's cell. Catrina walked away and pressed her back against the door, slipping into bodyguard mode.

"Yes, Matanza. I've missed you, too," Dario greeted his enthusiastic sibling before revealing what he had learned. "Well, I have some interesting news for you...Apparently, our father"-a low rumble from Matanza indicated that the emotional wounds inflicted by the oldest member of the Cueto family hadn't fully healed-"got married again after moving to Mexico, and they had a daughter...We have a little sister, Matanza. A half-sister. Her name is Gabriela. Her mother-our stepmother-Elena told me all this. But Elena died years ago. She's a ghost."

Catrina thought that Matanza didn't seem _quite_ as shocked as he should have been when confronted with such a revelation, but Dario was probably the only person in the world who could accurately gauge his brother's emotions. The former was doing his usual heavy, borderline obscene breathing and grunting, his chest heaving.

"Sister," Matanza growled all of a sudden. "Woman. Here."

"'Here'?" Dario repeated. "Wait...You _saw_ her? When was this?" Matanza bobbed his head, but failed to give a time.

"Likely yesterday when she went to your office," Catrina supplied, at last understanding the reason behind the younger brother's lack of emotion earlier. "It is only natural that she should want to meet her half-brothers."

"True..." Dario nodded slowly, and, although she could only see the back of his head, Catrina knew he was still upset over being denied-even temporarily-the chance to get to know Gabriela.

"Listen to me, Matanza: Gabriela-our sister-might be dangerous. Her mother died when she was only five, and she was raised by our father, so her loyalty is to him above all else. If she comes back, be nice to her, but don't trust her until I tell you she's not a threat. Okay?"

Matanza waited a beat, mulling it over, then nodded emphatically.

Catrina let Dario stay until he finally turned away, visibly exhausted. He said his goodbyes to Matanza, and the undead woman whisked him back to the bedroom.

"Go back to sleep," she ordered. "You need your rest if you're going to work with magic later." She had witnessed the toll the experiments were taking on him as the hours passed with little success; Dario looked drained, sweat had broken out on his forehead and along his hairline, and, towards the end of the day, he complained of a headache.

She received no argument from him and left the room until she was convinced he was asleep. Then she returned to make sure his murderous mother didn't come back and took over the desk chair in the darkened room. Luckily for him, Dario was too exhausted to be troubled by nightmares and got several hours of uninterrupted sleep. Catrina suddenly had a lot of free time on her hands, and she used it to examine the many complicated relationships she was juggling.

 _Catrina! My office, now!_ Marie's voice snapped inside her head around six a.m. Irritated, Catrina manipulated the light into turning, and staying, on with her powers, approached her houseguest, and shook him awake for the second time that morning.

"Get up," she ordered when he began to stir and mumble that he was awake. "I am being summoned again and must leave. It's not safe for you to sleep while I am gone."

"Mil?" he asked groggily as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position.

"No. My mother."

Dario blinked, surprised into a state of semi-alertness. "I thought the amulet gave her immortality. How can you hear her if she hasn't died?"

 _Good question._ She gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen, and heard him stumble along behind her after a slight delay. "I believe she can reach me telepathically because we are connected through the Piedra Immortal." Once they reached their destination, Catrina pointed to a chair, thinking that the hard wooden surface would keep Dario awake better than the inviting softness of a bed or the more forgiving living room furniture. "I will be back soon. _Stay awake._ " She popped back into the living room, grabbed a book on cult psychology from her bookcase, then reappeared in the kitchen and handed it to a jumpy Dario. "You might find this enlightening."

Catrina felt slightly less hostile towards her mother now that she was familiar with Dario's parents and stepmother. Marie would never exude warmth and love like Elena, but she _had_ tried to bring Catrina back from the Realm of the Dead, and she _was_ willing to sacrifice herself to give her daughter her heart's desire. Clearly, not every parent felt that way.

She landed just in front of her mother's desk. "I assume the gauntlet has been neutralized."

"Neutralized _and_ destroyed," Marie confirmed, although she didn't go into detail about the process. "It will never consume anyone again."

"How reassuring. Was that all you wanted to tell me, Mother?"

"No. I also wanted to inform you of something _interesting_ that happened yesterday...PJ Black was in Dario's office using his werewolf powers to help investigate the murder. Reyes left him alone for a few minutes, and he came back to find the werewolf unconscious on the floor outside of the office. Black doesn't have a clue how he got there, and he remembers little of his trip to the Temple. What does that sound like to you?"

 _Witchcraft._ "Perhaps he was ambushed by a vampire," Catrina suggested innocently. Elena hadn't mentioned Gabriela's encounter with the werewolf-or her visit with Matanza, for that matter-but, to her credit, she was preoccupied with her daughter's welfare.

Marie rolled her eyes. "Well, unless the Order employed a vampire to erase the memory of potential witnesses, my money is on their witch. Since one of their own killed Dario, they probably sent the girl to clean up the crime scene with magic." She sighed heavily. "Are you sure Dario isn't withholding information? He must know _something_ that could help us identify her..."

Thanks to Elena and the description Dario had given Catrina, she could tell her mother all sorts of interesting things about "the Order's witch"-but she couldn't bring herself to speak up. If Elena's plan worked, Gabriela would switch sides willingly just to get revenge on her father for murdering her mother in cold blood. Having an experienced magic practitioner on their side-one who could also teach Dario how to embrace his own powers-was infinitely better than whatever fate Marie had in mind for the young woman.

"With his life on the line, he has no reason to keep secrets from me. I am the only one who can bring him back from the spirit world."

"Damn," Marie muttered, making a fist and resting it on her desk. "I wish I could find the girl and kill her myself...No witch means no more cursed objects like the gauntlet." Her dark eyes lit up as she watched Catrina's impassive features. "You could do it. If you knew what she looked like, you could teleport straight to her and-"

"Killing one witch won't solve anything," Catrina interrupted, thinking quickly. "The Order can always find another...For all we know, they might have a coven already working for them in secret." At the very least, their leader was more than capable of filling Gabriela's shoes should something happen to her.

"Maybe so," groaned her mother. "I don't suppose Dario's father told him _everything_ -especially if he's considered a disappointment by Order standards...Anyway, taking her out would be considered an act of war." Catrina felt compelled to defend Dario, to argue that he couldn't be held responsible for Cuerno's choice to turn the gauntlet into a trophy, but she bit her tongue. Her mother was also a police captain, and she would immediately began to question Catrina's motives and pry into her personal life. Marie, meanwhile, glared daggers at the younger woman while she drummed a pen against her desk blotter. "If you've got a better idea for dealing with the witch, I'd love to hear it."

"If I think of one, I will let you know," retorted her daughter just before teleporting away. Catrina had already decided not to reveal either Dario's magical identity or Elena's information about Gabriela without explicit permission. She wasn't interested in adding additional ghosts and witches to her long list of enemies.

It wasn't until after she had returned to her kitchen-Dario was so engrossed in the cult book, he barely glanced up upon her arrival-that she remembered her questions about the prophecy. Specifically, the parts of it that referenced the Piedra Immortal and the seven tribes uniting.

She wondered if the prophecy had also foretold interference from witches, possession by goddesses, or Cuetos switching sides.


	11. Searching

_Many cult leaders rule by intimidation. Verbal, physical, and/or sexual abuse-if not a combination of all three-are used as weapons to keep members in line and make them too fearful to either oppose the leader or leave the cult. Punishment for breaking the group's rules will be severe and out of proportion to the transgression committed._

Dario shuddered and set the book aside, then pulled the blanket up higher to ward off the slight chill in the air and turned over in bed. It was bringing up all kinds of memories that he-due to his warped upbringing and years of unhealthy relationship dynamics-had previously dismissed as normal. His father yelling at Order members until he was red in the face and beating them with his cane for perceived failures, calling Dario "worthless" and "useless" whenever his actions, or lack of action, displeased him...

He yawned-a reminder of the sleep deprivation he was suffering as a result of Elena's visit. But losing sleep was a small price to pay in exchange for learning he had both a stepmother and a half-sister. Dario stopped reminiscing about life in a cult for now and felt a smile forming as he turned off the tabletop lamp and closed his eyes. He fell asleep imagining what it would be like to meet his baby sister for the first time, but it wasn't long until his overactive imagination conjured up a horrific nightmare instead.

 _"Wake up."_

 _Antonio's snarling voice was accompanied by a burst of pain across Dario's face. The latter's eyes automatically popped open and his head snapped up. As he watched his father lower his cane, he realized that he had been hit with it. He went to touch his stinging cheek only to discover that he couldn't move his arms because they were bound behind him. Dario could feel a rope or cord digging into the skin of his wrists, and some experimental wriggling proved that his legs had been bound to...something. Then he realized that was seated in a hard, wooden chair, and his ankles were tied to the chair's legs._

 _"What...What's going on?" he demanded over the sounds of his heart slamming against his chest and his pulse whooshing in his ears. "Why are you doing this to me, Papa?" Looking into his father's malicious face as the older man leaned over and glared at him, he knew at once that the other man was aware of his treachery._

 _Antonio ignored the questions._ _"Bring the little traitor in," he called to someone Dario couldn't see, and the door behind him opened with a grating creak a moment later. The otherwise empty room was now filled with people-two of whom Dario would have killed with his bare hands given the chance. But the sight of the other person entering the room nearly stopped his heart. His throat went dry and he swallowed hard as his chest constricted with terror for both the young woman and himself._

 _Agent Winter dragged her into the room by her arm and shoved her to the floor, where she landed on her hands and knees mere feet away from her oldest sibling. She was recognizable only by her distinctive red highlights. Most of Gabriela's face was disguised by her long, matted hair, but what little skin Dario could see was bruised and bloodied. Additional bruises covered her arms and the legs that peeked out from a tattered black dress. There were also deep rope marks around her wrists to indicate that she, too, had recently been tied up._

 _They_ beat _her, Dario realized, and his initial shock immediately turned to fury. He noted that some of the marks on her limbs looked like they could have come from Antonio's cane. It was his favorite weapon-next to his sharp tongue. Even more horrifying was the sight of the FBI agent standing behind her, his right hand now resting on the gun in his holster._

 _His father spoke again: "This is your fault, Dario. Catrina's, too. If you two hadn't convinced her to betray the Order, your sister wouldn't have to die."_

 _Gabriela, now in a kneeling position, let out a sob and covered her face with her hands._

 _"Don't do this," her brother begged. "She's your daughter-your own flesh and blood..."_

 _The older male Cueto smirked at Agent Winter, then turned his smug face back to Dario. "I_ _'ve already sacrificed your brother and took a hit out on you." Dario had suspected as much, but receiving confirmation was nonetheless devastating. "Obviously, I have no problem killing off my children when they disappoint me-and the Order." He smacked his cane against the floor. "There is no forgiveness for defectors!"_

 _Gabriela, meanwhile, continued to weep in a resigned way. She must have recalled -as Dario was doing now-the Order's slogans that were used to instill fear and obedience in its members: "Nobody leaves the Order except in a body bag. The punishment for treason is death. The punishment for failure is death."_

 _"Please, Papa...I swear she's innocent..." Dario waited for Gabriela to agree, to defend herself, but she said nothing. Maybe she was so brainwashed that she believed she deserved whatever was about to happen to her. Or perhaps she knew there was no hope of reasoning with these lunatics._

 _"If she was innocent, I wouldn't have sentenced her to death," growled Antonio. He nodded at Winter, who withdrew the gun, took off the safety, and pressed the weapon against the back of Gabriela's head. She screamed at the exact same time Dario made one last attempt to spare her._

 _"No!" he shouted, his protest swallowed up by the explosive sound of a gunshot. His half-sister slumped face down on the floor just feet away from her brother. He could feel a mist of her blood and pieces of brain matter splatter onto his face when the gun discharged. Never before had Dario felt such an overwhelming mixture of grief, outrage, and disgust._

 _"You bastards!" he raged. "I'll kill you for this! I'll kill both of you!"_

 _His father smirked._ _"No need to get upset, my boy. You'll be reunited with your sister soon enough." He nodded to Agent Winter, who wore a sadistic grin as he marched past Gabriela's body. When he got to Dario, he raised his gun and pressed the muzzle to the center of the disgraced Order member's forehead. Dario gulped, fighting the overwhelming urge to squeeze his eyes shut. He was petrified, his feelings no doubt written all over his face, but he didn't want to give either of these sons of bitches the satisfaction of seeing him cower before them._

 _"Catrina brought me back once and she'll do it again," he heard himself say with the signature Cueto cockiness._

 _The other men glanced at each other and shared a chuckle. His father was the first to speak. "Catrina can't help you anymore."_

What the hell does he mean by that? _Dario pondered, yet, on some level, he instinctively knew the meaning behind the ominous statement._ _"I-I don't understand."_

 _"She's...occupied," the FBI agent explained with a creepy grin. "Well, her_ body is _occupied." His words were a punch to the gut._

 _"Our first successful goddess host body," Antonio added with pride._

 _"But her stone-"_

 _"Her stone is now in the Order's hands." His father reached into his pocket and lifted out the magical rock for Dario to see before putting it back, and Dario's las_ _t shred of hope of salvation-for himself and Gabriela as well-died on the spot. Antonio glanced over at Agent Winter and spoke in an icy tone: "Now kill my worthless son."_ _His right eye squinted at Dario with such hatred that the latter tried to recoil. "Again."_

 _"Anything for you, Boss," Winter agreed gleefully._

 _The last thing Dario heard was a second gunshot._

He sat bolt upright, eyes wide open, his heart rate dangerously fast and his skin drenched in a cold sweat. It took him a minute or two to realize that he was still in Catrina's apartment, safe in bed. The cult psychology book he had been reading before he turned in had been knocked to the floor.

 _It was just a nightmare. I'm still alive, or maybe undead._ But not dead. And Gabriela was perfectly safe-for now. She hadn't even _met_ Catrina yet, nor Dario, so Papa had no reason to have her executed.

"Dario?" Catrina was there in a second, standing next to the bed and giving him yet another scare. She picked up the book and placed it on the nightstand, then gave him a curious look. "Another nightmare?"

"Yes," he gasped. Inexplicably, he felt compelled to share his burden with her. "I-I was tied to a chair, and I saw my father, and Agent Winter, and Gabriela...Dad said my sister had to die because she had betrayed the Order by talking to us. He had Winter shoot her right in front of me, then ordered him to kill me-again. He put the gun to my head..." He touched the exact spot, as if to make sure there wasn't a bloody hole left behind, and was relieved to make contact with smooth skin. But he was embarrassed by his shaking hands, watery eyes, and quick, nervous speech. "I woke up when the gun went off."

Catrina looked slightly perturbed, which didn't exactly soothe Dario's nerves. "It was just a nightmare, Dario. Nothing more."

He shook his head vehemently, like he could shake the traumatic images out of his brain for good by doing so. "What if you're wrong? What if it was actually a premonition?" But, if Catrina's face was anything to go by, she wasn't convinced there was any truth to his suggestion.

"Psychics get premonitions, and so do harbingers of death. You are neither."

"But it felt so _real_ ," he whimpered, still shaking his head. The vivid details kept running through his mind until he wanted to scream...He swore he could still feel the cold metal of the gun where it had rested against his forehead. When he wasn't thinking of that, he was envisioning his sister's lifeless body lying in an growing pool of blood, the back of her skull blown wide open. "And you..."

She tensed. "What about me?"

Knowing how she feared possession, he couldn't bring himself to tell Catrina what the Order had done to her. She didn't need the added stress.

"You weren't there to save us," he finished vaguely. "You're right. It was just a stupid nightmare. Nothing to fear."

"I think you've had enough sleep for awhile," Catrina said quietly. "You should get something to eat."

"I'm not really hungry." He was left nauseated from the gruesome remnants of his dream.

"You shouldn't do magic on an empty stomach. At least have a slice of bread and something to drink."

"All right," he conceded. "Just give me a minute."

"Of course." She hesitated, then reached out and squeezed his hand. Dario felt calmer after awhile. He knew then that Catrina was feeding off of his negative energy. Under the circumstances, the experience was more comforting than freaky. Then she did her ghostly thing and vanished.

Dario joined her after a quick trip to the bathroom. He scrutinized his reflection, which was on the pale side-pale for him, anyway-but otherwise unblemished save for the scabbed-over scratches left by his mother's nails. He then lifted his shirt slightly to be certain that his wounds from the actual shooting had truly healed.

"I'm not dead," he insisted to his reflection as he let the shirt fall back into place, "and neither is my baby sister."

 _Not yet, anyway,_ retorted a cynical-and fearful-voice inside his head. Dario made an effort to ignore it and joined Catrina in the kitchen. She had indeed put a piece of bread on a paper plate and poured half a cup of orange juice. He tucked into his meager breakfast reluctantly because he would rather knock back a stiff drink.

Between Catrina's fussing over his needs and Elena's interest in getting to know him, Dario had experienced more motherly concern in a few days than he had in years of living with his biological mother. It was an unfamiliar, yet pleasant, feeling.

"You like your stepmother very much, don't you?" Catrina asked out of the blue after several silent minutes of watching him consume his food and drink.

Dario swallowed his latest bite before answering. "Of course I do. She's everything my mother wasn't-and still isn't." Having such a shitty mother stung a little less now that he knew he had a compassionate stepmother to balance out the scales. He was anxious to continue bonding with Elena and learning about the woman-make that _women_ -from the Mexican side of the Cueto family.

"Same here," Catrina murmured. She propped an elbow on the table and cradled her chin in her palm. "I wonder what, exactly, made your parents the way they are."

"I have a few theories...My mother _hated_ being a parent. She blamed Matanza and me for ruining her life, and she was bitter at my father for walking out on us. She used to yell at us and hit us for even minor offenses, and sometimes for no reason at all..." He smiled sadly as he relived the worst parts of his childhood, tempted once again to pour himself a drink stronger than juice. "Of course, constantly being drunk on tequila probably didn't help her temper any...

"As for my father...Well, he learned how to be a harsh disciplinarian from his own parents. They were very old world European-you know, incredibly strict and believers"-Dario smiled fleetingly at his ironic choice of word-"in beating respect into children. They also never passed up a chance to tell him what they thought when he disappointed them." He paused, having just recalled one of the painful memories triggered by the cult book. "His favorite insult was to taunt us that we were worthless or useless. Now I know where he got it from." Knowing what he did now about the Cuetos, he wondered if his paternal grandparents had been part of a coven back in Spain.

With a start, he realized that they were _Gabriela's_ paternal grandparents, too.

Catrina slowly shook her head when he finished recounting his family history. "Your parents are sadists, Dario. No one deserves the hell they put you and Matanza through-except, perhaps, them."

He laughed shortly. "I couldn't agree more." Afterward, he lapsed into an introspective silence for awhile while drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. "I just fear that my father's influence on Gabriela has done irreparable damage to her." Even if Dario had been the forgiving type, he could never forgive Antonio for the never-ending pain he had inflicted on all three of his children and his kindly second wife.

No, he was definitely the vengeful type, and he was committed to making his father-and Agent Winter, and everyone in the Order save for Gabriela-pay with their lives.

"Half of her genes come from Elena. That has to count for something."

"I would like to think so." Dario himself hadn't been able to outrun the cursed genes he had inherited from both parents. Violence was his family legacy...It was literally in his blood. But Gabriela was different. If her mother had been alive-if Elena had succeeded in getting away from Antonio and starting a new life with their daughter-she would have turned out very differently. "I suppose it's never too late to change..." He wasn't just referring to his half-sister, either. Both he and Catrina had come a long way in a short amount of time.

She nodded sagely. "You are living proof of that."

* * *

"There." Dario spread his hands as if to say he had exhausted the topic of the Cuetos' lurid history. He had finished breakfast and reclaimed a seat on the sofa, allowing Catrina the luxury of her armchair. "Now you know all about the Cueto family. I think it's only fair that you tell me something about your own family."

"You already know about my mother." Catrina wasn't happy about the turn their conversation had taken-she was uncomfortable discussing her past in detail-but she was willing to indulge Dario if it kept his mind off of his tragic nightmare. Until he calmed down and stopped obsessing over it, he would not be focused enough to dedicate himself to more pressing matters-like doing magic and answering questions about the Order.

"Yes, but you've never mentioned anyone else."

"Because they are all dead except for a few distant descendants-and her."

But Dario was not about to be deterred. "What was your father like?" he pressed.

It took Catrina a moment or two to answer. "He was a good man-kind-and I loved him. But he fell ill and died when I was eleven." Catrina's hands were lying in her lap, and she glanced down at her nails as she spoke. She had told Mil about her family when she found him as a boy in the rubble, since he had lost everyone he loved and it was something they could bond over. But she could never bring herself to open up about the subject to anyone else-until now. "My mother never remarried. I don't know if she ever got over the pain of losing him...Or perhaps she just realized how futile relationships between mortals and immortals are."

"I see...Any siblings?"

"Yes...I was the second of four children. I had an older brother, a younger brother, and a younger sister." She stared past an intrigued Dario at the wall, bombarded by distant memories of people, places, and events from her childhood and young adult years. "Enduring so much loss makes it difficult to become attached to the living," she added morbidly. "I have been like this for two hundred years and seen much death in that time...However, now that I have the stone, I can bring anyone I choose back to life." To be perfectly honest, Dario's inclusion on the list of people worthy of that honor was about more than his value as a former Order member and a budding witch. Due to their similar experiences, Catrina found herself starting to let her guard down around the man and confide in him.

"Do you still keep in touch with your brothers and sister?" He looked like he was struggling to imagine Catrina as a living, breathing human being from a much earlier time period. She couldn't blame him, for, after two centuries in darkness, she could scarcely believe that she had once lived that life, either.

She shrugged. "Now and then. They have all found peace on the Other Side with their own families, and I try to respect that." It would be awhile before Catrina found her own version of peace, and dying-and staying dead-wasn't part of the plan.

"You must be very lonely," he observed, frown lines forming on his handsome face.

"Sometimes. I am used to the solitude-for the most part." She studied him in a reflective manner. "But I do not mind you keeping me company."

"Mil Muertes wouldn't like it, I'm sure. Or Jeremiah Crane-"

"What they don't know won't hurt them," Catrina jumped in with a sly smile. "I am not in love with either man, and I do not owe them an accounting of how I spend my time or with whom I associate." Yet, for Dario's sake, she had to keep these dangerous, obsessive men pacified. It was one hell of a balancing act.

"You know, I can understand why you want to become immortal...Believe me, I get it," Dario added with a hand over his beating heart. "What I don't understand is why you hate the way you are now."

Catrina was stunned into a speechless state.

"Think about it," he went on when she said nothing in response. "You will never age, or get sick, or die-well, die _again_ , I mean. You can use your powers to teleport anywhere, any time, and you can escape dangerous situations with ease. And I don't think you can be used as a host, either. It sounds like a pretty good deal to me."

Did she detect a note of envy in his tone? "Contrary to the rosy picture you just painted, being stuck between this realm and the next is insufferable." Anger had crept into her own voice and left a sour taste in her mouth. "For two centuries, I have been denied the simple joys that make life worth living for so many people."

He didn't seem entirely convinced. "Such as?"

"Food, drink-especially liquor-sleeping and dreaming, feeling the sun on my face, _sex"_ -Catrina emphasized the word with a smirk that made Dario blush furiously-"having children..."

The last item on her list definitely caught Dario off guard and left him with his jaw hanging. "You want children?" He pointed to Catrina as if to confirm that she was indeed talking about herself.

"I don't know," she answered thoughtfully. "But I would like the _option_ of having them-or not." Catrina took her half of the Piedra Immortal between her fingertips. "When I receive the other half of the amulet, I will have everything I desire, and I will also be spared the horrors of a second death."

"But you will lose your mother as a result, right?" he asked, and she nodded rather indifferently.

"She has lived for over a thousand years and wants nothing more than to prevent-or, at the very least, stop-this war. If that happens, she will die a happy woman." Now, if Marie had been anything like Dario's stepmother, she wouldn't be willing to sacrifice her in exchange for her own happiness. But Marie's obsession with the Order's supernatural war and Catrina's grudge over being trapped between worlds had driven a wedge between them and caused irreparable damage to their once-close relationship. The oldest surviving members of the Vasquez family had been reduced to mere business partners. "I have not forgiven her for turning me into _this_ , and she does not understand why I am ungrateful."

"You two could probably use therapy."

His quip got a rare laugh out of her. "So could you and every member of _your_ family."

A male voice with an American accent rudely interrupted the lull in their discussion: "So, Dario, it seems you finally met your nosy stepmother and learned you have a half-sister. I met the girl when she gave me the gauntlet, you know." The invisible spirit snickered. "She's a real firecracker..."

"Shut _up_ , Delgado," Dario hissed. He had been playing with the key while he talked with Catrina, and now he squeezed it into his palm with his fingertips, exerting enough force to draw blood. His eyes were growing darker by the second, and Catrina knew they were about to turn black and something magical was going to happen...

" _Ignore him_ ," she hissed, fearing an imminent implosion.

"If she wasn't Antonio's daughter," the one called Delgado-Marie had mentioned him before, a councilman working for the Order-continued in a lecherous tone that Catrina was all too familiar with, "I would have tried to get her into bed-"

"Don't talk about my sister, you son of a bitch!"

There were two lamps in the living room, a floor lamp near Catrina's chair and a smaller lamp on the side table near the sofa where Dario was sitting, and the light bulbs in both suddenly _exploded_. The hallway leading up to the living room went dark, too. Catrina didn't think twice about teleporting over to Dario and bringing him to the center of the room, away from the spray of glass shards. Her hand remained wrapped around Dario's wrist as they stood next to the coffee table, and she could feel his muscles quivering while he glanced around at the remnants of the light bulb now decorating the tabletops, furniture, and floor.

"I did that, didn't I?" he whispered. He uncurled his fingers and gazed at the bloodied key resting in his palm as if willing it to explain what had just happened.

"Yes," an awestruck Catrina confirmed. She released his wrist with a subdued smile. "See? You are already being a good brother to Gabriela." Although Dario had never met his only sister, his first instinct had been to defend her honor. Catrina was as impressed by his reaction as she was with his magical temper tantrum.

Dario seemed to relax slightly and finally let go of the key. "I couldn't let that _cabrón_ get away with insulting her." He headed for the kitchen, and Catrina overheard water running while he washed the blood off his hand.

"Now might be a good time to practice magic," she suggested when he returned to the living room with a paper napkin pressed to his wound. "It seems that strong emotions like anger help to bring out your innate power and abilities."

His smile was more than a little unhappy. "And I have a lot to be angry about these days."

"If you learn to channel your emotions into magic, you could easily take out the entire Order." The once-cowardly man who had always hidden when threatened-behind his brother, his title of Lucha Underground proprietor, the Cueto name, his Order connections-was rapidly becoming a supernatural weapon of mass destruction in human form who didn't need to rely on anyone but himself. Although, of course, he still needed Catrina around in case he got killed again.

It helped that Dario was no longer fighting just for his own survival. He was also fighting for his half-sister's freedom and to bring his dead stepmother some peace. And he had become just as determined to take out his tyrant of a father as he was to kill the man who had shot him.

The undead woman found Dario's magical badass side _very_ attractive.

"You think so?" he asked dubiously.

"I _know_ so," Catrina said with conviction. Dario had not yet acquired the confidence in his abilities that she had, and she was happy to reassure him as necessary. He needed to learn to believe in himself or else he would never become the witch he was meant to be.

"Before we get to work, do you mind taking me back to the Temple?" Dario looked almost reluctant to ask another favor from her. "Matanza needs his breakfast, and I want to get the rest of my money."

"As you wish." The more cash Dario had on hand, the less Catrina had to dip into her own savings to pay for his groceries. She dumped out the contents of her purse onto the coffee table, causing her wallet and a variety of cosmetics to scatter all over the surface. "We can use my purse to transport your money." That way, they wouldn't have to make repeated trips with handfuls of cash.

"Thanks." Dario put on his shoes and went into the kitchen to assemble a plate of raw hamburger for his brother.

They took Matanza his meal first and Dario visited with him for a few minutes. His younger brother still took a keen interest in Catrina, but he was-slightly-less excitable and noisy as he grew accustomed to her presence.

The ghost of Elena Cueto was waiting for her eldest stepson and his companion when they arrived at the office. She stood just in front of the desk with her hands clasped demurely. It seemed that revealing her identity to Dario had formed enough of a connection to this world to cease the flickering that had plagued her during previous encounters. Dario dropped Catrina's hand and clutched his chest with a gasp.

Elena smiled timidly at the two of them. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"What are you doing here?" Dario asked once he had recovered. Catrina never ceased to find it amusing how easily startled human beings were. She herself hadn't batted a lash at Elena's unexpected appearance. Then again, _she_ was usually the one frightening others via teleportation.

"I overheard you talk about visiting your office. I consider you and Matanza my sons, and I want to protect you as I would my own daughter." Catrina watched a variety of emotions play out across Dario's face Having a loving, protective parent was a new experience for him and would take some getting used to, but he clearly valued having the opportunity. Elena smiled sheepishly and added, "Also, everyone else I know is still asleep." She frowned. "As a ghost, I have many lonely hours to fill."

"I know the feeling," Catrina muttered.

"Protect me from what, exactly?" Dario wanted to know.

Elena narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. "The drugs your sister tried to steal from your desk yesterday. I kept slamming the drawer shut until she gave up and left." She looked pleased that she had succeeded in preventing her daughter from taking an illicit substance-and determined to do the same for her stepson.

"I only use it recreationally," the man protested as he opened one of his desk drawers, but his stepmother would have none of it. Catrina popped over to the other side of the desk to see two plastic bags of cocaine inside.

"You shouldn't use it _at all_ ," Elena said sternly, "and neither should Gabi." Dario actually had the decency to look ashamed.

"Do not worry, Elena. I will dispose of the cocaine for you." Catrina swooped down and took the bags out of the drawer before Dario could touch them. He gave her a sulky look before he resumed rummaging through the rest of his desk's contents. "Neither Dario nor Gabriela will get their hands on it."

"Thank you. I don't want any of them to join me in the grave."

 _Too late. Your stepsons are already dead in one way or another..._

"My money's gone," Dario complained as he peeked into another drawer and slammed it shut in annoyance. "All of it..." He scanned the shelves housing his assortment of liquor bottles and scowled. "I also had a bottle of champagne for Ultima Lucha, and now it's missing. And"-Dario's eyes widened as they traveled upward, and his mouth hung open momentarily in protest-"my bull! She took my bull statue!"

"You had another one?" Catrina asked.

Dario nodded, staring longingly at an empty spot on a shelf above him. "Yes, in gold." He pointed. "It was _right there_."

"This is my fault," Elena murmured. "I kept Gabi from stealing the cocaine, but she ran off with the other things before I could stop her."

"At least the bull is still in the Cueto family," Catrina said to Dario, who shrugged and seemed to give up on the idea of getting the statue back.

"Speaking of family..." Elena began, turning back to her stepson. "Gabi went to see Matanza while she was here. Why is he locked up like a criminal?"

Dario sighed. "To make a long story short...My father sacrificed him to a god as a child and he grew up to be violent and unpredictable."

Elena's eyes became moist, and she shook her head in disbelief. "That poor boy," she whispered. "How could anyone be so cruel?" But she knew from personal experience the extent of Antonio Cueto's callousness. Catrina thought to herself that this sensitive woman must have shed an ocean's worth of tears over her family in the years following her death. The ghost suddenly looked panic-stricken. "Is that what will happen to my little girl if she...if she gets possessed?

"It's possible," Dario said slowly and with a strained glance in Catrina's direction. "But I can't say for sure since I don't know of anyone who has been possessed by a goddess."

" _No one_ is getting possessed by a goddess," Catrina asserted, thinking of herself first and foremost _._ "Together"-she deliberately looked first at Dario, then Elena-"we will make sure of that."

* * *

"I'll be fine."

Detective Reyes shook his head, arms folded stubbornly across his chest as he and PJ stood just outside the main entrance to the Temple the morning after their previous trip. The two had just donned fresh pairs of latex gloves and clear shoe covers. The building was cordoned off from the general public with crime tape. "I'm not taking any chances. The last time I left you alone in the Temple, you got amnesia and a wicked headache."

"But there's no one else here right now except Matanza, and _he's_ not going anywhere," the werewolf protested.

The cop simply refused to budge. "And Taya will kill me if anything else happens to you. I'm coming with you."

"Can you at least wait outside the office door?" PJ requested as a compromise.

He nodded. "Fine by me." His presence made PJ's job a little more difficult-he had to deal with sensory overload already when scouring the crime scene for additional clues, and adding another person to the mix complicated matters-but he'd tackled far greater challenges in his life.

The hairs on the back of the South African's neck seemed to stand on end as he neared the office. Although the scents had faded as the hours passed, the smells of additional body chemistry overlapped them and left him questioning everything he knew about the case. Surely, he must be mistaken...He took a deep breath and let himself inside the empty room.

Two human men and a human woman had been here recently. The woman smelled vaguely of raspberries and chocolate, and the smoky odor of magic use continued to hang in the air. But two more visitors had arrived since them, and confirming their presence blew PJ's mind. He stumbled out of the office after a minute of deliberation and closed the door, his mouth dry with shock.

The cop blinked at his quick exit. "That was fast."

"Who did I tell you was here before?" PJ inquired. "I can't really remember."

"Uh, Dario, his killer, Catrina, and another human male-probably the killer," Reyes informed him with a puzzled frown. "Why?"

"Because someone else was in the office-a human woman. I don't recognize her scent, but it's all over the Temple and a little faded. I'm guessing she hasn't been here since yesterday. I can smell some kind of magical object, too."

The blood drained from Reyes's face, like PJ was a doctor who had just diagnosed him with a terminal medical condition. "You can? How is that even possible?"

PJ shrugged. "The use of magical items leaves a kind of smoky residue in the air." The acrid odor so irritated his nose that he was surprised the detective didn't notice. It was yet another reminder of just how different he was from everyone around him.

"But that's not all." He swallowed hard, knowing that the officer was going to be picking his jaw up off the floor after the bombshell he was about to drop on him..."There were two other people here this morning." Except they weren't really people in the human sense...Catrina wasn't, anyway. Not entirely. And Dario's body chemistry had been altered by death so that he, too, carried a faint trace of decay. PJ had detected the same signature from Mil Muertes, Fenix, and Prince Puma as well-all individuals who had been directly touched by the cold hand of death and been resurrected. He looked the other man in the eye. "Catrina-and Dario."

There was a long moment of wide-eyed silence between them. "Shit," Reyes mumbled once the shock wore off. "No way...You and Taya said Dario was dead."

"He was, but now he isn't." PJ sighed. Only someone as clever as Dario could find a way to survive being murdered..."Catrina must have brought him back to life."

"Why would she do that? I thought they were bitter enemies."

The werewolf gave him a wry smile. "You tell me, man. _You're_ the detective."

Reyes sighed heavily. "Well, at least I've got something new to tell my captain...Anything else I need to know about?"

"Nope." PJ knew that the female stranger's choice of shower products and love of chocolate was irrelevant to the investigation.

"Good. Let's get the hell out of here."

The detective had given the Darewolf a ride to the Temple-probably because he feared something would happen to him if he went alone and got there first-and PJ slid into the passenger seat and clicked the seat belt into place.

"About that woman you sensed..." Reyes began as he put the key into the ignition. "My boss, Captain Vasquez, says she's a witch working for some doomsday cult Dario was-still is, I guess-involved in. She's Mexican-Aztec-and probably in her twenties...That's all we know about her so far, but we're trying to identify her, and..." He rushed through his next statement. "When we do, Captain Vasquez wants you to befriend this witch and get her to confide in you." PJ's head whipped towards him in disbelief, and he watched as the other man's cheeks reddened. "Maybe even, uh, seduce her if you have to-"

"No offense to your boss, but her plan is insane." A witch...A human woman using magical objects to sneak around the Temple-and someone capable of casting spells to wipe out one's memories. The description ticked all the boxes. And, if all those red flags weren't incentive enough to keep his distance, said woman also belonged to a cult.

"I know." The corners of the detective's mouth turned slightly upward. " She thought someone like you-someone who's into extreme sports and motorcycles-would be up to the challenge. And, well, you probably want revenge on the person who knocked you out and stole your memories, so..."

Revenge _would_ be nice, but this was one adventure PJ had no interest in going on. Using a woman for information was bound to backfire on him eventually.

"What do _you_ think?"

"I don't like it one bit," Reyes admitted as he drove around the corner and the Temple disappeared from sight. "The last time a civilian worked undercover for us, he lost his life."

"You mean Cisco? Yeah, Taya and I know all about him. Sorry for your loss, mate."

"That's _Mr._ Cisco," he corrected PJ with quiet intensity. "And he was my friend...Anyway, I'm not happy about the plan. If there wasn't magic involved, you could just work with our forensic hypnotist instead, but I guess they can't retrieve stolen memories."

PJ took off the gloves and scratched the back of his neck under his ponytail. "I don't know...You know there's not much that scares me, but even I have my limits-and I'm not sure I want to mess with a witch." He almost always preferred to leap before looking, but he would have to be a complete idiot to ignore the mounting apprehension he felt.

Out of his peripheral vision, PJ noted that the other man looked perplexed by his discomfort. "But you're a werewolf with supernatural powers of your own."

Like PJ needed a reminder..."Yeah, but witches aren't like normal humans. They can be dangerous even if you're nowhere near them. And she's a _cult member_ , too. Skydiving and base jumping are _nothing_ compared to what your boss is asking."

They rode in silence for awhile. "What if you're the only one who can stop Armageddon from happening?" Reyes finally piped up.

PJ couldn't help but smile. "Substitute 'Ragnarok' for 'Armageddon' and you sound just like Taya." He sighed loudly and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his forehead against the window. Despite being a late October morning, the sun was already strong and the temperature outside was climbing rapidly. "Tell your captain I'll think about it, okay? But no promises. Besides, you guys haven't even identified your mystery woman yet." He could breathe a little easier knowing that he wasn't expected to commit to the plan until the police had more information. That could take awhile.

"Captain Vasquez will...eventually," the detective stated with confidence. He met PJ's eyes for a split second before turning back to the road, and what the latter saw in those dark depths alarmed him. "You don't know her, PJ. That woman refuses to take 'no' for an answer, and she's _obsessed_ with bringing this group to its knees."

 _There's a first time for everything,_ PJ thought obstinately. He was going to have to weigh the pros and cons before making a decision, although the end times reference drove home the gravity of the situation. Maybe by playing spy he could learn some valuable intel that would aid the investigation-even save the world-but he had a nagging feeling that getting involved with this woman would be his undoing...


	12. Broken, Not Shattered

Dario watched sullenly as Catrina emptied out and flushed the contents of the plastic bags, then tossed the bags into the small metal trash can nearby. But he wasn't the only one watching, because he had invited Elena home with them for another chat. She was grateful for the opportunity, since, in her own words, "Having a conversation with someone who isn't a ghost is a rare treat for me." His stepmother hovered in the open bathroom doorway, and the immense relief that flooded her translucent features was worth the minor sacrifice on Dario's part.

He was learning to keep his eyes locked on her face, but he felt ill every time his gaze strayed and he caught a glimpse of her severed throat, the bloodstained white blouse she had died in, or her red, wet hands. It was shameful to be related to the murderer of such a good, innocent person, as well as to bear a strong resemblance to the younger version of that son of a bitch.

Perhaps the latter was the reason why his mother had saved most of her venom for him. Every time she looked at Dario, she had also seen Antonio reflected in his features.

"I know you're not happy about this, Dario, but I worry about _all_ of my children. At least now I have one less thing to fear." Again, she spoke in a charmingly accented version of English with a sprinkling of Spanish.

The fact that Elena considered him her son made him feel wanted for a change. Loved, even. He could get used to that feeling, but it would take some time before he stopped questioning whether he was worthy of her love.

"Well, when you put it that way..." He couldn't bring himself to refuse anything she asked of him. Between her controlling husband's violence and her daughter's self-destructive behavior, the woman had suffered more than enough already. Catrina turned from washing and drying her hands to give Dario what appeared to be a look of approval.

With the last of Dario's cocaine supply disposed of, the three of them returned to the living room. Catrina even surrendered her usual chair so that Elena could have a seat and joined Dario on the sofa. It was strange to sit down and have a conversation without a drink in hand, but he reminded himself that he wasn't back in his office conducting Order business with powerful men or dealing with disgruntled employees demanding either rematches or title shots.

"You do know that drugs and alcohol affect your ability to do magic, don't you?" Elena asked him as she sat. She then smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt and crossed her feet at the ankles-very human gestures for someone who had been dead so long. It reminded him that she had once been alive, and, like him, had passions and dreams.

"I had no idea," Dario confessed. That was useful information for a novice magic user, and it prompted him to cut back on his own alcohol consumption-although he wouldn't eliminate liquor completely unless Elena became concerned enough to request it. "Then again, my father never told me I was a witch." Elena seemed surprised by his ignorance-as surprised as he had been to learn the truth. "Catrina helped me figure out what I am." Together, they were still trying to determine what he could and could not do. "So, how can my sister do magic if she's an...an addict?" The last word wanted to stick in his throat.

"Gabi rarely touches alcohol during the day, but she drinks herself to sleep most nights-or back to sleep when she has a nightmare." Elena's frown deepened, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "And she uses cocaine whenever she can get her hands on it-which isn't very often, thank God. Still, I'm terrified that she's going to overdose someday and..." She trailed off and blinked rapidly, but it wasn't enough to prevent a few tears from rolling down her cheeks.

Dario gulped, sensing Catrina stiffen beside him. His half-sister's approach to indulgences was far from the male Cueto attitude towards drinking and cocaine, which involved sips throughout the day and doing the occasional line. Gabriela's tendencies towards excess were a cry for help that warranted an immediate intervention. And then there was her disturbing fixation on playing host to a goddess...Although Dario kind of wanted to shake the girl and lecture her on how her actions were hurting her mother, he also understood that she was struggling to cope with her unresolved trauma on her own. Antonio definitely wasn't the type to lend a sympathetic ear, and, anyway, he was directly responsible for her torment-not to mention the rest of his family's ongoing suffering.

 _If-no,_ when _-we get her out of the Order, I will do everything I can to help her,_ Dario vowed.

"If the worst happens, tell me and I will restore life to her," Catrina promised with a quick glance at the man sitting beside her. "Dario is under my protection, and I am extending that protection to his sister."

"Thank you," Elena and Dario said in unison, although the latter knew that Catrina's motives for keeping Gabriela alive were more practical than altruistic. She needed to get "the Order's witch" on their side not just to take them down, but also to teach Dario how to use his own, internal magic.

He loathed the thought of his baby sister suffering from ghostly visions and voices in her head the way he did, but it was preferable to allowing her soul to remain beyond the veil. A chill crept up Dario's spine. He knew from personal experience that the Other Side was anything but welcoming to those who did evil in life-and even worse for individuals like him who had dead enemies eager to get revenge. As a Cueto and a devout member of the Order, Gabriela fit nearly into both categories.

"How did you meet my father?" he questioned Elena once the awkwardness of the moment had passed. "I'm interested in knowing what you saw in him." He suspected it was her Aztec ancestry and natural beauty that appealed to his father, but he couldn't understand what had attracted this kindly woman to a man like Antonio. And to think the two had a daughter who was a combination of both...

His stepmother looked glad to change the subject. "I met him at an art museum. I was looking at a display of Aztec sculptures, and Antonio approached me and started asking questions-about me, my opinions on the artwork, my tribe...Jaguar, in case you were wondering...He was very handsome back then"-Elena exchanged an amused, knowing look with Dario, because the older man's looks had gone downhill years ago-"and I also liked that he took an interest in my culture and my own art." She paused to shake her head. "I had no idea that his love of all things Aztec would become an obsession that destroyed our family."

"From what you said, it seems that your daughter has inherited your artistic talent," Catrina commented while Dario tried to picture his abrasive father charming this honorable lady into marrying him. He was also intrigued by the fact that Elena was descended from a tribe with an especially fierce reputation. She had indeed fought for her daughter's future-and no doubt fought for her own life-and, judging by her mother's description, Gabriela had inherited more than a touch of the wildcat spirit.

Elena nodded. "I was a professional violinist and an amateur artist. Antonio used his influence to get some of my drawings and paintings into local galleries." She smiled fleetingly. "I couldn't help but fall in love with a man so supportive and generous. So, when he proposed a few months later, I said yes. I was twenty-six and ready to get married and start a family; Antonio was in his forties, wealthy, and had a big home in the country. I believed that we could be very happy together and provide our children with opportunities I never had, as well as the love his parents didn't give him."

"That's a beautiful dream, Elena," Catrina told her in a husky tone. Dario realized then that Catrina herself might have aspired to a similar lifestyle had she lived and died like an average woman from her time. Maybe some part of her still yearned for that antiquated notion of success. But, try as he might, he simply couldn't envision the "High Priestess of Hades" as a happy housewife and attentive mother. It was like imagining himself settling down to become a husband and a father. Neither of them seemed destined to live a conventional lifestyle.

Elena's expression darkened. "Unfortunately, it was only a dream. The reality was that I had married a monster. I honestly don't think he ever really loved me-or our daughter."

"If it's any consolation, I don't think he's capable of loving _anyone_ except maybe himself," Dario told her, and he was speaking from the heart. His father had been no warmer towards him, but Dario had happily accepted whatever scraps were thrown his way. Looking back on the limited time they had spent together, he cringed inwardly at his pathetic attempts to earn praise from his living parent.

She nodded again, somberly this time. "I learned the hard way that your father judges people by their value to him, not their hearts. In his eyes, I had stopped being useful when I failed to have more children, but trying to run away with our daughter made him snap." The ghost wiped her tears away with her sleeve. "What Antonio did to her-turning her into a female version of him-was worse than anything he ever did to me." Since the man had slit Elena's throat, that statement spoke volumes about his sadism.

"It is not too late to both save your daughter and punish your husband for his crimes," Catrina said with conviction. Elena nodded slowly and actually took a deep breath she didn't need in what seemed like an effort to compose herself.

Dario sure hoped Catrina was right. "When did he start to change?" he asked the other woman. Sooner rather than later, he guessed. It amazed him that she had found his father's financial status appealing not for her own needs or material desires but so that her children could have a better future. In his world, it was increasingly rare to find anyone so unselfish.

"Around the time Gabi was about a year old. He began putting pressure on me to give him a son-"

"He already _had_ two sons," her stepson interrupted in a small, wounded voice. Catrina briefly touched his knee in a rare display of sympathy.

"But none with Aztec heritage," Elena clarified with an apologetic look. "Your father expected at least a son and a daughter from me. He refused to even consider adoption...I could have been content with our little girl and getting to know my stepsons-only Antonio forbid contact with you and Matanza." Her words were a knife to Dario's heart. "He said that your mother's abuse had left you both unable to have healthy relationships with women, and it was safer for me-and Gabi-to keep our distance. I wasn't happy about it, but I'm sure you know how hard it is to stand up to a man like your father..." She again shook her head in disappointment. "I still don't understand how he could leave you two alone with such a hateful woman."

Dario's anger upon receiving an explanation for his father's secrecy was laced with pain. He could understand why Papa wouldn't want the gentle Elena or the fearless Gabriela anywhere near Matanza, but to keep them away from _him_...While Dario did have issues with women that resulted in a need to dominate them in the bedroom, he had never felt anything but protective towards his stepmother and half-sister since learning of their existence. The comparison was as absurd as it was offensive. But he also understood what Elena meant about having difficulty going against Antonio's orders, and, unlike Dario's mother, she also must have felt an obligation to protect her own child against potential threats.

Elena tucked her hair behind one ear, revealing a single round post earring in gold, and continued her story. "Anyway, Antonio blamed me and lashed out as the years passed without the son he so desperately wanted. I was yelled at more times than I can remember, and sometimes the abuse turned physical: a black eye, a bruise, a split lip..."

Dario felt his lip curl and his hands ball into fists by his sides. The last of his loyalty to his father had died the moment he learned Antonio had killed Elena, and he found himself wanting to cut the bastard's throat, eye for an eye style. Along those same lines, he also intended to shoot Winter twice in the stomach. But, as far as Lotus and Rey were concerned...Well, their crimes were minor infractions compared to murder and conspiracy to commit murder, and he was inclined to let them slide rather than offend his stepmother's sensibilities.

"How did you learn about the Order-his cult-and your husband's involvement with magic?" Catrina's inquiry was a much-needed distraction from the increasingly distressing topic of Elena's suffering at Antonio's hands.

"Sometimes, I would wake in the middle of the night and find Antonio gone, so I went downstairs and discovered that he had locked himself in his study. I could hear him chanting in a language I didn't know, and the air often smelled like the strange herbs he asked me to plant in our garden. What else could it be but witchcraft?"

She smiled. "Being from a good Catholic family, you can imagine how shocked and scared I was. One day, while Antonio was at work, I called his former best friend, who was also a friend of mine, and told him what I had learned. I only knew this man as El Dragon Azteca. He had already warned me that Antonio had changed for the worst, but I refused to believe him." Elena sighed, as if expressing dismay over her willful ignorance. "I always tried to see the best in people and to justify Antonio's behavior...He told me that my husband had become obsessed with bringing back the Aztec gods through magic, and he was recruiting powerful men to help him achieve his goal. Dragon Azteca also said that Gabi and I were in danger if we stayed, and he wanted to help us start a new life far away.

"The plan was to pack some clothes and money, pick up Gabi from school, and call Dragon Azteca once I drove to another friend's house. We would decide where to go from there. But Antonio came home early that day, and..." Elena shrugged, her gaze downcast. "Well, you know the rest of the story."

Dario imagined that his father must have thought Elena was a simple, naive woman who wasn't clever enough to realize he was leading a double life. He also thought it was cruelly ironic that the man he had goaded Black Lotus into killing was the first individual his stepmother turned to for help.

"How do you feel about witchcraft now?" Catrina wondered.

Elena's face was a study in neutrality. "I learned to accept it...eventually. I know that magic can be used for good as well as evil, and it's as much a part of my children as their eye color or height." She paused. "As a ghost, I am also supernatural, so who am I to judge?" she added with a trace of amusement.

Ironically, Dario's eye color _had_ changed, but, judging by Mil Muertes's transition to white, then red irises, he gathered that it was just a side effect of resurrection via Catrina's magic rock. He was glad that his stepmother didn't hold being a witch against him, but, then again, he had done things in his past that were _much_ worse than dabbling in magic-things he never wanted Elena to know about.

The ghost took a look at the sunlight streaming through the red curtains and stood-appropriately-with catlike grace. "Gabi is probably awake by now, so I'm going to check on her." She beamed at Dario and reserved a mock stern look for Catrina. "Take care of my son while I'm gone, Catrina." Dario felt a pang of sadness that she was leaving, but at least he had the comfort of knowing she would eventually return. Gabriela didn't have that luxury. Did his sister wake up every day still hoping to receive news of her mother's whereabouts? Or had she written off Elena as dead long ago, yet continued to struggle with the grief and uncertainty? Those questions haunted him.

Catrina regarded the brunette solemnly as she slid her hand over Dario's in a protective manner. Her cool touch was reassuring and a source of comfort. "I always do."

* * *

Gabriela awoke with King Cuerno's taunts ringing in her ears from a terrifying nightmare: _"There are so many ways I can kill you, little girl. I could put an arrow through your heart, a bullet between your eyes, or gut you alive with a hunting knife...Or maybe I'll just cut your heart out and sacrifice you to the gods of our Aztec ancestors..."_ Cuerno had been chasing her through the woods behind his cabin when she tripped over a fallen branch and twisted her ankle with a little shriek-and that's when she woke up.

She lay curled on her side for a few minutes while she waited for her breathing to return to normal and the tremors to subside. Cuerno was the least of her concerns at the moment, although she was positive he wouldn't hesitate to kill her if he ever learned she had taken the gauntlet. In truth, Gabriela's disturbing dream was just one more thing on the long list of experiences that had rattled her since yesterday's visit to the Temple.

Her muddled thoughts kept circling back to her mother, whom she knew would be aghast at her reckless and destructive lifestyle. Without either proof she was alive or evidence of her death, and with all magical means of reaching Elena exhausted, her daughter was at a loss. She clung to hope that Mama was still alive-maybe she had gotten amnesia in an accident and had a new identity now-but, if she _had_ died and her spirit was keeping watch over her child...A lump formed in Gabriela's throat, and her chest tightened with sorrow at the thought of disappointing her beloved absent parent.

 _Mama wouldn't approve of a lot of the things I've done,_ she thought regretfully. Tears pooled in her eyes as she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling of her old bedroom. Only her old twin-sized bed-now covered with a pillow and a navy blanket she didn't recognize-and the eggplant purple paint on the walls remained behind; every other piece of furniture, art, and the area rug had accompanied the room's former occupant to her new residence.

The most challenging aspect of being Gabriela Ocēlōtl Cueto-Torres was trying to figure out how to honor both of her parents' wishes for her. She knew this wasn't the life Elena would have wanted for her child, yet Gabriela could never abandon either her father or the Order-and not just because she loved Antonio and craved his approval. The last thing she wanted was to incur the wrath of the gods, goddesses, and the shadowy, enigmatic entity those in the organization referred to as the Lord. He even made _her father_ nervous. Feeling trapped and conflicted, Gabriela found solace in whatever helped pass the long, lonely hours between assignments and silence the tormented voice inside her head.

It was simply impossible to please one parent without failing to meet the other one's expectations.

Her mother had been on her mind ever since she had entered Dario's old office-now _her_ office, she recalled with awe-and stumbled onto a crime scene. Witnessing the blood and bullet holes for herself had unleashed all of Gabriela's suppressed fears about her mom's unknown fate. Dario's shooting was a stark reminder of the monsters lurking in this world-the kind of monsters who would brutally take the life of an innocent woman or hold her captive for their own sick pleasure. It made her fear that Mama might have encountered one of them...

The witch was also concerned about her ability to defend herself against her family's enemies. When Cuerno had her pinned to the floor, she had frozen, her mind going blank in alarm. If the gauntlet hadn't taken control of her...Gabriela had the same reaction when that scumbag Delgado had rested his hand on her lower thigh, just below the hem of her dress, and told her she was beautiful with a creepy smile while they were seated on her sofa discussing the gauntlet. A brief, unexplained power outage had snapped her out of her dazed state. When the lights came back on, she was on her feet and casting a hex that left the councilman writhing on the floor in agony until he apologized and promised never to touch her again. Only his value to the Order had kept her from killing him on the spot.

Although Gabriela had always prided herself on knowing how to defend herself, she realized now that she had some challenges to overcome. She needed to learn how to channel both her Cueto magic and the ferocity of her Jaguar tribe ancestors without hesitation _before_ she started working at the Temple. It could save her life the next time she was attacked-and there _would_ be a next time.

Gabriela wiped away the tears that had started to roll down her cheeks and inhaled deeply. She had thought her oldest brother's death would bring her some peace, but it only served to increase her misery. Papa had told her he kept her existence a secret from Dario because the latter would only blackmail her into using her magic for him, a non-witch. And, sure, Dario had his faults-too many to list-but he had genuinely cared about Matanza. Perhaps he would have loved his sister, too...She was uncertain whether their father's concerns were legitimate or if he was simply overprotective of his youngest child and only daughter.

There were some situations she simply had no control over. Gabriela might never know what happened to her mom no matter what magical tricks she used or how many times she questioned the police in Mexico City. And she definitely couldn't conjure up Dario's spirit to introduce herself while staying at their dad's magically protected home. But she _could_ do something to alleviate some of the guilt she was carrying around-something Mama would approve of-by performing an act of kindness for PJ Black.

The werewolf was an innocent victim, and Gabriela felt remorse over giving him a magical, amnesia-inducing headache when he hadn't done anything to deserve it. He simply knew too much about her, and she had too many secrets to keep.

 _What_ was _he doing at the Temple, anyway?_ she wondered, since she hadn't given him a chance to explain his presence.

She checked the current temperature on her phone-a spring-like seventy degrees-before throwing the covers back and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Still clad in her black silk pajamas, she pulled up an image of PJ on her phone and meditated on it. Her soft, Spanish chant was a magical request to locate the subject, and, when she closed her eyes, a vision eventually came to her of the him on a bench while lifting a barbell, dressed in a black Darewolf tank and shorts in the same color. Taya was spotting him.

Gabriela exited her trance by opening her eyes. There was a gym close to the Temple that was frequented by the luchadors and luchadoras. PJ was most likely working out there-she hoped so, anyway-and she had to get a move on or he would be gone before she arrived. She grabbed her purse and dug through her gym bag for an outfit that would catch his eye without looking _too_ sexy, settling on a red, cap sleeve blouse, black pants to cover her bull tattoo, and sensible black heels that would bump up her height by three inches.

The young woman used the adjoining bathroom, then dressed, ran a brush through her hair, and applied a touch of eyeliner and a coat of curling mascara in record time. She collected her heels, handbag, and a lipstick from her makeup bag and trotted downstairs. After slipping on her shoes, she went looking for her father.

He wasn't in the kitchen, so she peeked into the living room. Her heart nearly stopped when she caught sight of him leaning over the altar he kept and lighting candles. Next to a black-and-white photograph of his paternal grandmother-the woman who had been more of a mother to Antonio than his own-was now an enlarged color photograph of Dario framed in gold. Gabriela recalled something their father had once said about his perpetually black-clad firstborn: "Dario dresses like the Spanish Inquisition never ended."

 _Poor Papa...He must be heartbroken..._ Gabriela issued a silent prayer to the gods and goddesses, asking them to lend him the strength he would need to endure the bleak days ahead. Her gaze landed on the sunflowers he always kept in a sky blue ceramic vase on the coffee table-Mama's favorite flowers and favorite color. They were starting to wilt, and she made a mental note to replace them.

Her father turned as if sensing her presence and forced a smile. Understandably, he looked like he hadn't slept much, if at all, the night before. "Good morning, Gabriela. Did you sleep well?"

She shrugged as she tried to blot out King Cuerno's threats from her memory. "Well enough. I'm going out to buy coffee." Unfortunately, her father didn't share either her love of caffeine or her sweet tooth. When she was packing, she had included her single serve coffee maker and a bag of caramel-flavored coffee, but she was out of mocha. "Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head as he straightened up. "I'm fine." His expression turned grave a second later. "Stay away from the Temple, Gabriela. It's probably crawling with cops at the moment, and Matanza will be all right for a few more hours."

"I will," she agreed reluctantly, although his command sounded cruel since Matanza had a human body and needed food like the rest of them. Still, after her run-ins with the hunter and the werewolf, she found herself questioning the invisibility bracelet's usefulness. "I'll be back soon. Love you!" She had always told her parents that every time they parted ways, and she knew her father loved her, too, even if his emotionally stilted upbringing had left him unable to tell her so.

Gabriela was glad she was driving the boring, cheap sedan she used for errands and missions and not the flashy red Jaguar she preferred, because the latter would attract way too much attention in Boyle Heights. She pushed the speed limit the whole way and parked in front of the coffee shop situated across the street. While deciding on the best approach, she unbuttoned the first few buttons of her blouse and applied her matching lipstick.

As luck would have it, she only had to wait a few minutes before the entire Worldwide Underground spilled out of the gym's doors. She exited her vehicle at that exact moment and directed a dazzling white smile at the Darewolf, who stopped in his tracks and stared at her like he had just seen a ghost. Her beauty was not lost on the other male members of the group, because Jack and Ricky gaped at her like goldfish. Even Johnny lowered his sunglasses for a better look, much to the chagrin of Taya, who punched him in the arm when his gaze lingered.

Over the years, Gabriela had grown accustomed to men fawning over her like she was already a goddess, so their reactions were nothing new. But PJ's expression in particular, both now and when he first laid eyes on her, plainly said he was under her spell-just not literally this time.

 _He's_ _really cute,_ she thought with a sigh of longing as she turned and entered the coffee shop. _And that accent...Damn._ But he was one of her employees now, and it would be unprofessional to pursue him. Also, unless he joined the Order, PJ was destined to end up a casualty of war, a sacrifice, or a host.

There were a few people ahead of her in line, so she studied the chalkboard menu on the wall and considered its offerings while she waited for PJ to catch up with her. She planned on ordering a large mocha latte, but they didn't offer bagged coffee like she had hoped, just basic hot and cold drinks and pastries. The luchador finally came through the door and smiled when Gabriela glanced over her shoulder and their eyes met.

Her driver license fell out of her wallet while she was digging out the cash to pay for her purchases and landed on the floor. With PJ's inhuman reflexes, he picked it up and returned it to its owner before she could even bend over. Fortunately, he didn't appear to glance at the card and notice her last name.

Gabriela thanked him while returning her license to its rightful place. "Order anything you like. My treat." She held up a twenty dollar bill with an inviting smile.

He looked startled. "You don't have to-"

"Please. I insist." She was determined to do things differently from Dario, and she hoped that her actions today would earn her an ally who wasn't related to her _and_ had supernatural powers. But it remained to be seen if PJ or anyone else in Lucha Underground would ever be able to trust a Cueto...

"Just water." He studied her with unabashed curiosity. "So, what's the occasion? You a fan?"

Since Gabriela couldn't tell him the truth, she decided to ignore his last question and just smile sweetly up at him. "I've decided to do one random act of kindness every day, and today is your lucky day." PJ was sweaty and flushed from his workout and his ponytail was in disarray, which caused Gabriela to have some distracting, impure thoughts.

"But why me?" he persisted after she had placed her order with the young blonde behind the counter, paid for the drinks, and handed the bottled water to PJ. Gabriela decided to do a second good deed and tossed her change into the tip jar. They stepped aside and waited at an empty table away from the window-her preference-so that the next customer could place his order.

 _Because I feel guilty about wiping your memory and giving you a migraine yesterday._ She merely shrugged. "Why _not_ you? Like I said: it's a random act."

PJ smirked as though he didn't believe her for a second, and, after the way she had grinned at him outside, who could blame him? "If you say so." He squinted at her through striking hazel eyes that, in the sunlit cafe, appeared to be enhanced with flecks of green. "I feel like I've seen you before...What's your name, love?"

There didn't seem to be any harm in telling him since they were going to be on a first name basis soon. "Gabriela. And I've just got one of those faces, I guess." She looked away awkwardly, certain that his confusion was a result of her resemblance to her late half-brother and not a failure to do the spell properly.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I'm PJ, by the way." He stuck his hand out, and a blushing Gabriela shook it, surprised that his skin was just a little warmer than her own. The Darewolf either didn't notice the effect his words had on the young woman or pretended not to in favor of studying the tattoo on her bicep. "Sweet jaguar tattoo. That your favorite animal or something?"

"One of them." The big cat was as symbolic to the maternal side of Gabriela's family as the bull was to the Cuetos. She was glad she had thought to conceal her other ink.

He nodded and guzzled some of his ice water before replying verbally. "Cool. I like wolves, myself."

 _No surprise there..._ "So do I," Gabriela heard herself say. She wished she had kept her mouth shut when PJ promptly broke into a broad grin.

Just then, Gabriela heard her name being called and excused herself to collect her latte.

"Well, it was nice talking to you, PJ, but I really should get going..."

"Can I get your number first?" he blurted out as screwed the cap back on his water bottle and got to his feet. "I'd like to talk to you again. You're...interesting."

"Um..." She must have given him the deer in headlights look, because he quickly changed course and gave her a smile that was meant to be reassuring.

"Or I can just give you mine and you can call me if you feel like it. No pressure."

"All right." A relieved Gabriela gave her receipt to him to write on and a blue pen she fished out of her purse rather than hand over her cellphone so he could enter his number. She watched him scribble on the slip of paper resting in his palm with increasing dismay, knowing she would bury it in the bottom of her purse and never talk to him again outside of the Temple. PJ returned the receipt to Gabriela, then insisted on getting the door for her since her hands were full. She couldn't tell whether he was just being nice to get into her pants or if this was the real PJ Black and he only acted like a jerk in front of the cameras.

They exchanged goodbyes, and it took every ounce of the witch's willpower not to steal one last glance at the sexy werewolf on the way to her car.

Gabriela took a detour past the Temple and saw there was an indeed a police car outside and yellow tape surrounding the property. Damn it...She was anxious to spend more time with Matanza and start gaining his trust, but her visit would have to be delayed until after the crime scene had been processed.

On the drive home-funny how she still thought of Papa's LA mansion as her home in America even though she had her own house now-she decided to stop by a grocery store to buy coffee, a case or two of her father's beloved cerveza, fresh sunflowers, and the ingredients for some of their favorite dishes. Mostly, she wanted to boost his mood and make sure he ate regular meals, but she also needed an excuse to justify why she had been gone so long.

Papa had sworn he would be all right, but Gabriela knew better. Antonio Cueto was a complex individual. Beneath his gruff, stoic exterior was a man who still grieved for his missing wife two decades after she vanished; a devoted single father who had read to his youngest child for hours; a mentor who shared his extensive knowledge of history and the supernatural with both his eldest son and his daughter; and a fan of bad puns and all things connected to Halloween...

 _"Uh, Dad? What's going on?_ _"_ _Gabriela asked with a laugh. Her father had instructed her to wait inside his living room while he got her "surprise," and she bounced to her feet_ _when he returned, carrying a broom and a black witch hat. There was even a giant plastic spider dangling from a string attached to the brim. The old man had an impish grin on his face as he approached her._

 _"I got you a Halloween costume." Antonio thrust the broom into his daughter's hands, then plunked the hat down on top of her head and adjusted it so that the string dangled past her right eye. "This year, I figured you could be a real witch disguised as a fake witch. Ingenious, right?"_

 _She couldn't help but grin, too. "All I need now is a black dress and a black cat."_

 _"I'm sure you already have the perfect dress-but you'll have to get your own cat. No animal shelter would adopt to someone like me." He smiled at her with a twinkle in his good eye. "Halloween always was your favorite holiday. I remember how much you used to love getting dressed up..."_

 _"I'm not a little girl anymore, Papa," Gabriela reminded him gently._

 _"You will_ always _be my little girl, Gabi," Antonio insisted after staring at her for a long moment, and the sentiment combined with her childhood nickname caused his daughter's heart to melt. Impulsively, she threw her arms around him before remembering he was uncomfortable with hugs and stepping back._

The smile brought on by the memory faded as Gabriela realized that Halloween was less than two weeks away, followed immediately by the Day of the Dead celebration. After Dario's recent murder, Papa would no longer be in a festive mood, but she would do everything in her power to keep his spirits up-including wearing that ridiculous costume he had picked out last week.

Apparently, cheering people up was the theme of the day, she realized with a flashback to PJ's sparkling green-hazel eyes and endearing grin that inexplicably made her heart skip a beat. Then it was back to magic and mayhem as usual, because there was no escaping her obligations to the Order.

* * *

Something was obviously weighing on Dario's mind as he finished the rest of his breakfast. He ate in silence and didn't glance up even once at the puzzled woman staring at him from across the table until after he had swallowed his last bite and drained the final drop of juice from his plastic cup.

"Is there a way to bring Elena back to life all these years?" he finally asked.

"Yes," Catrina answered, "but I would need her remains." If the distressed look on Dario's face was any indication, that was going to be a problem. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, and Catrina knew he was thinking along the same lines that she was. Assuming Antonio's henchmen hadn't destroyed Elena's body to dispose of her, what could possibly be left of the poor woman after all these years?

"That's what I was afraid of," he all but whispered, dropping his head into his hands. "I know my father would have given his men instructions not to leave any...evidence behind that might incriminate him-like a body."

"Even if I had what I needed, what you're asking of me would put Elena in danger," she warned, although she was intrigued by the idea. It was unfortunate that Dario's stepmother's case was infinitely more complicated than the other revivals Catrina had performed. The only other known way a ghost could take on a physical form was to occupy a host body, but Catrina couldn't imagine Elena being comfortable with the idea of possession. "And, as you know, people come back different. Sometimes, those changes are for the worst." The concerned ghost who had talked to Dario and Catrina and the loving mother from Gabriela's memories might have very little in common with the woman who returned-especially after being dead for two decades.

"But what if she's fine? Personally, I'd like to think I'm a much better man than I was before." Catrina didn't disagree, but every individual was unique, and she _had_ observed some negative changes in Dario-namely, he was more fearful and insecure following his resurrection. "I'm sure she would agree it's worth the risk just to hold and talk to her daughter...And we can wait until after the Order is destroyed so my father can never hurt her again." The excitement and cautious optimism in Dario's black-brown eyes as he looked up told Catrina that he wanted his stepmother to have a second chance at life at least as much as he himself wanted to live. Maybe even more so. "Please, Catrina...There must be another way..."

She carefully considered his request. The promise of restoring Elena's life force would provide Dario-and especially Gabriela-with the ultimate incentive to cooperate with Catrina in her quest to take down the Order. But Catrina also had reasons to participate that had nothing to with self-preservation. The more time she spent around Dario and learned about him, the more she liked the man, and Elena-despite reminding her of a certain ring announcer who was also pure of heart-was the kind of mother she had always wished Marie could have been. Elena seemed to accept her as part of her extended family, and Dario was getting on with her as well. As someone who didn't fit in anywhere and was estranged from _all_ of her relatives-living and dead alike-that feeling of inclusion was meaningful to Catrina.

Also, she liked the idea of sticking it to the Order's maniacal leader by resurrecting both the son one of his followers had shot in cold blood-most likely at Antonio's behest-and the wife he had slaughtered like an animal. There were still the potential complications to consider, but Gabriela might know of some magical way to neutralize any side effects.

"There might be," she said slowly, "and I know someone who could have the answer." There were two other individuals she was aware of who possibly possessed the knowledge she needed and even the qualifications to perform whatever ritual was necessary. Despite the animosity between them, Vampiro just might be intrigued enough with the concept to cut a deal with her. It was also likely that Gabriela, as a witch who specialized in dark magic, would know exactly what to do. But she had no guarantee that Vampiro would be willing or even able to help her, or that Gabriela, who was still unable to make contact with her mother after years of trying, could pull off such a difficult feat...

The Spanish man appeared utterly perplexed. "Vampiro? As I recall, you two aren't exactly on good terms."

"Neither were we." Dario's brows went up and he smirked with one side of his mouth; he, too, had noticed her use of the past tense. "Actually, I was referring to Jeremiah Crane."

Dario seemed uneasy with the idea. "I thought he was stalking you...Are you sure it's safe to be around him?"

Was he trying to protect her? The very idea was touching, although Dario also needed her and her stone to remain alive indefinitely. "What can he possibly do to someone like me? Hold me captive? Kill me?" Catrina asked with a smirk of her own, and Dario managed to smile at that. Whatever his fears, they were unfounded. "He stays up late-around four or five in the morning-and will probably be asleep until the early afternoon. I will try to find some books or dark objects for you while I am there."

Catrina didn't wait around for him to express his gratitude. She immediately flickered into a dingy apartment that was such a dump it made her place look like a royal palace in comparison. She knew she would find _something_ of value in here-Jeremiah's eclectic collection was the occult equivalent of Antonio Cueto's vault of all things witchcraft-but recognizing the treasures amid the filth and chaotic mess would be an uphill battle. Still, it was worth a try.

She took in her new surroundings with increasing disgust. While many of the items inside Jeremiah's residence were reminiscent of what one would find in a voodoo shop straight out of the French Quarter of New Orleans, the overall vibe was one of desolation and apathy.

The walls-complete with peeling white paint that appeared almost gray from age and neglect-were decorated with swords and large knives like machetes. There were cobwebs everywhere, and almost every single surface was coated in a thick layer of dust. A roach scurried past Catrina's foot, but she failed to react to its presence. There were a few others running around the discolored beige carpeting, as well as ants crawling in the empty soiled pizza box and greasy fast food containers littering the coffee table. Also taking up space on the tabletop were several open beer bottles containing varying amounts of liquid and a haphazard stack of horror movies on DVD. The sole item of value in the room was a wall-mounted big screen TV of the modern flat variety. Catrina was old enough to remember a time when there were no television sets of any kind or moving pictures to watch at home or even in a movie theater.

 _And he wonders why I do not wish to pursue a relationship with him..._

With nothing of interest in the living room, Catrina popped into Jeremiah's bedroom. Just as she had expected, she found him sprawled out on top of an unmade bed-and mercifully clothed in a black tank and ripped, faded jeans in the same color. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned to the right, with his black hair half covering his face and one arm dangling off the side of the bed. His mouth hung open while he snored, and a thin line of drool was soaking into his pillow.

Catrina wondered what Ivelisse had ever seen in him. The former had never felt a single spark of either sexual or romantic attraction towards the man, although she thought nothing of playing on his feelings for her if it got her what she wanted.

They weren't the only individuals in the room: a vivarium across from the bed housed a fully-grown boa constrictor. "I named her Catrina," Jeremiah had proudly announced when he introduced the woman to her animal namesake, "'cause she's beautiful and deadly, just like you."

She was pretty sure that Jeremiah's red-haired bitch of an ex didn't share the dubious honor of having him name a snake after _her._ It was also telling that he kept the other Catrina in his bedroom...

Thinking of snakes reminded her that snake venom was another means of reviving the dead, but, again, a body was needed. Yet Catrina was undeterred. People were not supposed to come back to life once they died, but Dario, Mil, the Disciples of Death, and Prince Puma were all proof that it could be done. Catrina herself was undead, trapped between the land of the living and the realm of the dead thanks to a broken amulet with the power of immortality. As far as she knew, there had never been anyone else like her. Also, past encounters had confirmed that both vampires and zombies were indeed real.

Ignorance of how to raise the dead without either the deceased's corpse or bones did not necessarily translate into an impossible task.

Catrina moved stealthily towards the closet, which required passing a wall shelf holding a collection of authentic-looking-if not actual-human skulls. She knew Jeremiah kept his Ouija board on the top shelf of his closet because she had seen him store it there after recovering it from above the ceiling in Dario's office. The undead woman hesitated. Gabriela had undoubtedly already tried this method without success, and Catrina only required the spirit's presence to pass messages from the dead to the living, so why did she need something like this? Regardless, she felt compelled to take the set, convinced it might serve some purpose down the line. She retrieved the Ouija board and planchette by standing on tiptoe, then teleported back to her own apartment and deposited them on her coffee table in front of a baffled Dario. Afterward, she returned to Jeremiah's bedroom to hunt for more supernatural-related treasure.

There was a bookcase crammed full of books-a library of the macabre that rivaled hers, covering everything from serial killers to the occult to ghosts. It was a less organized version of her own bookcase. One of the books that caught her eye was titled _Back from the Dead_ , and the blurb on the back indicated that the pages were filled with true stories of people resurrected by various forms of black magic. She took that one without deliberating. Another was about the zombie variety of living dead-not _quite_ what Catrina was looking for. Might there be books on the dark arts that could prove useful to Dario? She decided to take a closer look at the contents of the shelves while she was there.

She had just selected two more books when the bed springs squealed ominously, followed by a loud groan. Catrina turned and found herself staring into a pair of sleepy-yet-lustful green eyes and the smug face of Jeremiah Crane as he sat up, suddenly wide awake.

"I knew you couldn't stay away from me," he drawled, cracking a grin at the sight of his obsession.


	13. Unexpected Visitors

Catrina could have been out of there in a blink with just a few books and a Ouija board to show for her troubles. However, after everything Dario had done for her lately, it would be unfair to him if she failed to ask Jeremiah about the subject that currently consumed both Dario and Catrina herself.

 _Nothing ventured, nothing gained..._

"I'm guessing those books in your hands mean you're here on business-not pleasure." He cracked his neck as he stood, never taking his eyes off the woman in black.

"I am looking for some specific information that I thought you might possess." Catrina didn't owe him an explanation, and Jeremiah knew that she could leave at any time, so he was unlikely to push for too many details just to keep her around longer.

He raised an eyebrow as he walked towards her and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah? Like what?"

"I need to find a method of raising the dead that does not require the remains."

Jeremiah stared at her like he wasn't sure he had heard her right. A minute or two passed before his grin returned. "I'll answer your question, sweetheart-but it'll cost you."

She knew _exactly_ what his price was even before he closed his eyes and puckered his lips. It was the same thing he had asked in return for capturing and bringing the gauntlet to her-only this time, Mil wasn't around to beat him senseless for being so brazen.

Catrina gave him a quick peck on the forehead and backed away with a mischievous smirk.

"Aww, no fair." Jeremiah pouted like a little boy whose mother had just refused to buy him candy or a toy. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

She shrugged. "You wanted a kiss, and you got one. You did not specify _where_. Now I believe I asked you a question..."

He sighed and used one finger to touch the spot her lips had brushed, his green eyes slightly glazed with ecstasy. "You're evil, you know that? Lucky for you, evil is a real turn on for me...All right, I'll be straight with you: I have no idea how to do what you're asking. Why doesn't the ghost just move into a new 'home'?"

By that, of course, he meant a new body. That would be an acceptable solution for Dario, but Elena would surely be uncomfortable with the idea-especially if the host body was still occupied by someone else's spirit.

 _But what if the soul has already departed? It would be no different than squatting in an abandoned house..._

Jeremiah was still talking, questioning her motives for turning a ghost corporeal and making inquiries as to the phantom's identity, but Catrina was so lost in her thoughts that his voice had faded to background noise. She felt that installing a ghost in a new, vacant human shell might avoid the usual pitfalls of resurrection, since Elena would technically still be dead. At worst, she would probably have to deal with looking at someone else's face in the mirror every day and perhaps adjust to hearing a different voice whenever she spoke...Best of all, Catrina already knew of a female body that would soon be available for use, no foul play required-

"Yo, Catrina!" Jeremiah waved his hand in front of her face, drawing her attention back to him. "What's goin' on inside that pretty little head of yours?"

"You just gave me an idea, Jeremiah...Maybe even a solution to my problem." The answer was so obvious that she wondered why she hadn't thought of it sooner. She cupped his chin and finally gave him a proper kiss out of gratitude-a kiss right on the mouth that unwittingly drained some of his already-depleted energy levels-and thanked him.

Jeremiah beamed as he staggered back to bed. "Now I'm gonna have sweet dreams for sure...Oh, and take whatever else you want," he added with a wide yawn as he swept some books and clothes off the bed and onto the floor. "You'll have to come back sooner or later to return my stuff, so it's cool."

The sleep-deprived man was snoring again in no time at all. While he slumbered, Catrina resumed combing through his bookshelves, although it was doubtful whether the ideas contained within any of his reading material could compare to the epiphany she had just had. However, two potentially useful names popped into her head during her quest to find relevant information: Vampiro and Aerostar. But would either agree to do a favor for her? The first man had not forgotten the time she had screamed in his face and slapped the taste out of his mouth; the second was firmly allied with the greater good and a close friend of Fenix's as well. Still, one of Catrina's gifts was the power of persuasion over the male sex...

Tucking the books she had chosen under one arm, she closed her eyes and formed a mental image of the bald commentator. A second later, she opened her eyes to find herself standing before Vampiro.

He was clad in a hooded black robe and had been engaged in some kind of esoteric ritual that involved kneeling in the middle of a pentagram drawn on the wooden floorboards in chalk with his head bowed. Thirteen lit, black candles encircled the pentagram. He opened his eyes and rose with a smirk when Catrina appeared, her supernatural presence commanding enough to blow the candles out all at once. The man's face was painted a chalky white, and his eye sockets had been blackened with excessive makeup. There was a small "x" drawn on his forehead just above the bridge of his nose.

"Catrina. You're not the one I expected." Although it probably had something to do with the ceremony she had interrupted, Catrina noticed that his speech pattern was more formal in private than the one he used while doing commentary.

She had a faint inkling of who-or _what_ -Vampiro had been trying to call forth. If Elena saw her with him, she would probably arrive at the conclusion that Catrina was about to sell her soul. Given Elena's strong aversion to dark magic, the other woman probably shouldn't have reached out to Vampiro, but the ghost also ached to hold and speak with her daughter. It was possible that her desire to be reunited with Gabriela was stronger than her distaste for all things sinister.

Catrina felt she owed it to the entire Cueto family-including Antonio, as a kind of "fuck you" gesture to him-to thoroughly investigate every option before giving up. She could not articulate the reason behind her decision to help them, but it went beyond having them in debt to her.

"I assure you that you did not summon me by mistake. I am here to ask a question regarding black magic and the dead."

That got his attention in a hurry. His interest in anything of that nature was more compelling than years of bad blood between the two of them. "Ask away."

"How do you return a spirit to its body when the flesh and bones no longer exist?"

Vampiro chuckled. "I must admit, I've never tried-and I am curious why you're asking." He eyed the books tucked under her arm with interest. Catrina had all but forgotten that she had taken them from Jeremiah.

"That is between the dead and me. Can it be done?"

He paused in contemplation. "I imagine that it's possible, and I'm intrigued enough to research the subject. Come back in a few days. I expect to have an answer for you by then." The gleam in Vampiro's eye made Catrina wonder whether he planned to conduct an experiment to find out first-hand if what she was asking was indeed possible. That was a disturbing thought, but she reminded herself that she was not responsible for the actions of a grown man.

Her final stop before going home was to see Aerostar, the last person Catrina knew of who might be able to help Elena return in the flesh. Well, other than Gabriela, and there would be no consulting the young witch until she could get her alone. Aerostar was standing in the middle of the roof of the Temple, surveying the horizon, when she appeared in front of him. He barely even flinched. Although Catrina doubted he would choose to do anything that directly benefited her, she hoped he could be persuaded to lend a hand to a kindly, tormented apparition.

"I need your assistance, time traveler." She ignored the voice in her head insisting that this was a fruitless endeavor and she should stick with the plan she had already come up with. Time travel might allow Elena to retain her own body-and maybe even prevent her death in the first place.

Although the only parts of Aerostar's face not concealed by the mask were his mouth, chin, and the tip of his nose, the way his lips were pressed tightly together informed her that he wanted no part of her scheme. He didn't even bother to look at her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied calmly in Spanish.

"If you are not a time traveler, then I am not trapped between life and death." Catrina allowed herself to flicker in and out for a few seconds to make her point, but he kept up the impassive act.

"Why would I help you?" he asked after waiting a beat. "You are on the side of evil."

"I may be evil"-Dario and Elena would surely dispute that statement-"but we are actually on the same side in this war. You are opposed to the Order bringing back the gods in human form, and I was appalled to discover they plan on turning women into goddesses in the near future." A trace of genuine fear entered her voice, and Aerostar's mouth turned downward, forming a grimace. "That is a fate I wish to avoid at all costs. I also know of a young woman whose powers can protect me from possession-and destroy the Order-and, in exchange for her help, I will resurrect her mother."

"You do not need me for that." Naturally, his voice was tinged with surprise, and it irked Catrina that what she wanted to accomplish was beyond her capabilities.

"Oh, but I do. You see, her mother is a ghost without a body to return to. I need to know if you can go back in time and bring her with you either before she gets murdered or soon afterward." In the latter case, after she reinstalled her soul, Elena's slashed throat would heal just as Dario's gunshot wounds had.

"It is possible to do both," he answered slowly, "but rewriting history never ends well. To change the past is to alter the future-often in terrible ways." Catrina got the distinct impression that he was glaring at her. "It is not so different from raising the dead."

The undead woman ignored the dig at her signature skill aside from teleporting. She was reluctant to drop names, since there was a possibility that Aerostar might be in league with her mother and Marie was itching to kill "the Order's witch," but, if she chose the correct words, she could protect Gabriela while making an inquiry on Elena's behalf.

"I have information that might convince you otherwise, but I am telling you in confidence. Repeating anything I am about to say- _to anyone_ -could put the spirit's daughter in danger."

Aerostar hesitated only briefly. "You have my word-for the girl's sake." _Not yours,_ the last four words silently implied.

"The ghost's name is Elena, and she is-or was-the second wife of Antonio Cueto, the Order's leader. She might have married a monster, but I assure you the woman has a heart of gold- _and_ she is descended from the Jaguar tribe. Their child is the magic user I intend to conspire with."

"I have heard of the witch you speak of," he declared after a nerve-wracking stretch of silence. Aerostar spoke with reverence, implying that Gabriela's name carried quite the reputation-or perhaps he was just impressed with her lineage. "She has an important role to play in the events to come." Catrina waited for him to elaborate, but he did not say whether Gabriela's fate was to continue serving the Order or to turn her magic against her father and his doomsday cult. "I will go to the future to learn what is destined to happen. Then I will decide what to do."

Catrina nodded in silent appreciation. While she watched, he did a motion with his hands that resembled turning the hands of a clock forward, then vanished into thin air. Catrina waited impatiently for him to arrive in the present. She imagined that Dario was going to have a nervous breakdown if she didn't come home soon.

Aerostar seemed shaken when he reappeared. "You don't need my help, Catrina. You have already found a better way than time travel."

"What else did you see in the future?" she asked as casually as she could. It was reassuring to be informed that the radical plan she had come up-thanks in part to Jeremiah-was going to work out in Elena's favor. She supposed there was also a possibility he was referring to the conversation she planned to have with Dario's sister once they had an opportunity to speak in private...

"Hope," he answered vaguely and with just a hint of a smile. Catrina smiled as well, accepting his evasive response as a good omen, and teleported back to her apartment to share the news with Dario.

* * *

For Dario, being alone left him alone with his thoughts and little else, since Catrina didn't have much in the way of entertainment beyond her many books. Of course, she could also teleport anywhere in the world anytime she wanted a change of scenery...He still failed to comprehend why she was willing to sacrifice her powers to become human, but at least with the halves of the amulet reunited she would gain immortality, and that was infinitely better than being a mere mortal.

He envied her for having that option, although he supposed being brought back from the dead was the next best thing to living forever...The man began to pace the living room to burn off some of his nervous energy.

While he paced, Dario created a mental list of pivotal life events he had missed involving Elena and/or Gabriela. He wished his father had introduced him to the lovely woman who would become his stepmother when they started dating and allowed him to attend their wedding. She would have been the mother Dario had always dreamed of...He also regretted being unable to watch Gabriela grow from a baby into a woman. It would have been nice to serve as a magical mentor to the younger witch, too. And the whole family should have celebrated birthdays and holidays together, including Gabriela's quinceañera...

Elena had mentioned her intent to pick up her daughter from school when discussing the last day of her life, which made Dario wonder just how much of a "normal" upbringing his little sister had experienced. Had she been allowed to continue attending classes following her mother's disappearance-or after she developed her powers? Had she ever had a serious relationship or even just a group of good friends? Were there dreams she wanted to pursue that didn't revolve around the Order and the Aztec deities? He imagined that their father would have deemed most of those ordinary experiences unnecessary and gone to great lengths to control as many aspects of Gabriela's life as possible-starting with the murder of her mother.

His eyes started to water, and he blinked furiously. It was hard not to blame himself for the numerous tragedies that his female family members had endured. _Maybe if I had been a part of their lives, I could have seen the signs of abuse and helped them get away from that tyrant. Maybe Elena would still be alive and Gabriela wouldn't be a depressed addict..._

Dario sighed and shook his head at the ridiculous turn his thoughts had taken. Now he was just torturing himself needlessly. He wasn't Aerostar...He couldn't go back in time and change things, and, even if he could, the rumor was that time travel with the intent of rewriting history always backfired in a spectacular manner.

Not that raising the dead was much better, but perhaps Gabriela's magical expertise could minimize the emotional damage to Elena. Dario still thought he had turned out all right-all things considered. Then again, he had only been dead for a minute or two at most, and Elena had spent the past two decades as a ghost...

He tried to focus on the future that awaited him-that awaited _all_ of them _-_ and the new memories to be made once the Order was vanquished. Dario had to believe they would be successful at obliterating the cult or else he would start having panic attacks round the clock. He imagined happy things that might come about as a result: a family reunion, college graduation, career accomplishments, weddings, children...All that needed to be done first was dismantle a doomsday cult, break Gabriela of her addictions and mindless worship of Antonio, and return Elena to her own, currently nonexistent body. No problem.

His thoughts turned away from family and towards Catrina. If she was open to it, he would like to keep in touch while she did whatever she wanted with her immortal life. She would no doubt have all kinds of fascinating adventures of her own to share with him. It just seemed wrong to cut off contact abruptly with the woman who had saved him and embarked on this bizarre journey alongside him...

It still rankled him that she insisted on taking back the Temple, but there were even more important things in his life now, and he chose to prioritize the family he'd always wanted over the job he used to have. But he would jump at the chance to return to his old position-or any position at the Temple-should she offer it to him.

A smirk crossed his face as he turned and headed down the hallway. He was starting to like Catrina, and, if he wasn't mistaken, she was warming up to him, too-just a little. Who could have imagined that day would ever come?

He was washing his hands after a trip to the bathroom when he happened to look up into the mirrored cabinet. Being confronted with his maimed reflection made him cringe even as it gave him an idea.

 _Maybe I don't have to wait for these wounds to heal. Maybe I can heal them myself with my key..._ The thought of wielding such power made him giddy.

He held the key upright and pressed it gently against the four scratches so that it touched a portion of each, then stared at his reflection while envisioning his wounds healing before his very eyes. After awhile, the key heated from warm to almost unbearably hot and took on a golden glow. Dario resisted the urge to drop the scalding metal and was rewarded when the red marks began to disappear. The healing started in the areas the key touched and gradually spread outward until the only evidence that remained of Mama's assault on his face was Dario's memory of it. Only then did he relinquish his hold on the artifact.

Now that Dario knew it was possible to heal himself with magic, he wondered why his father hadn't used his own powers to restore himself to full health and vitality. Was there some kind of magical, karma-related penalty he wasn't aware of for using witchcraft for vain reasons?

He smugly examined his unblemished complexion in the mirror. Only the bruising on his throat and broken capillaries in the whites of his eyes lingered, but those would heal in time.

 _I can't wait to show Catrina what I just did. She's definitely going to be impressed._ It was funny that he should care what his former nemesis thought of his minor magical accomplishment, but it was the first thought that popped into his head once he was fully healed.

A male ghost in a two-toned green mask and emerald-colored hooded sweatshirt materialized behind the witch while he was admiring his magical prowess and made him whirl around in fright. El Dragon Azteca stood before him, looking impressed and confused at the same time. His spectral presence struck terror deep in Dario's heart.

"Your father told me you couldn't do magic," he stated in that deep, masculine voice of his, arms folded across his chest. Initially, Dario wanted to bolt-to run straight through the ghost, who was blocking the doorway-but he decided to attempt talking his way out a painful death instead. His quick thinking and smooth talking had saved him from many perilous situations in the past.

"He lied." Dario gripped the sink behind him with enough force to make his knuckles ache. "It's been a long time, Dragon Azteca." His voice squeaked a little, but he was too scared to be embarrassed. The man he convinced Black Lotus to kill had come back to haunt him-literally.

"Cálmate, Dario." But Dario was unable to calm down. He wasn't exactly hyperventilating, yet his heart was beating way too fast and his chest felt so heavy he could barely breathe. "I'm not here to seek revenge-although I have every right to."

"You're...you're not?" That was a surprise-especially given his long and sordid history with the Cueto family. So far, Elena was the only ghost who had recently visited Catrina's humble abode without ill intentions towards Dario. Then again, his stepmother had been friends with El Dragon Azteca, so the latter was probably just respecting her wishes by not harming him.

He shook his head. "No. I talked to your stepmother, and she was so excited and happy to finally meet you that I knew you were a changed man."

"That's true." Dario's smile was lopsided and tense. "Dying changes a person...Sorry," he promptly apologized when he remembered that El Dragon Azteca was more of a dead man than him. "That was insensitive."

The phantom let out a surprised laugh, melting some of Dario's apprehension. "I never thought I'd hear a Cueto apologize for anything."

Dario shrugged, let go of the sink, and allowed his arms to fall at his sides. "Like you said: I've changed." At this point, it was evident that the apparition wasn't out for blood.

"I'm glad, because Elena would want nothing to do with the man you used to be."

Dario's eyes widened and his mouth went dry. "You wouldn't..." He realized then that his stepmother and El Dragon Azteca had much in common-shared strong morals and values-and, in the midst of his own panic, he wondered if the male ghost's interest in Elena went beyond mere friendship.

"Don't worry. I'll keep your dark past a secret-as long as you stay on the right path."

"Deal," Dario agreed readily after exhaling in relief. Going back to the Order was no longer an option even if he _wanted_ to-which he no longer did. He had ceased to believe that Winter shot him of his own accord, and, even if his father had nothing to do with Dario's death, Antonio's abuse and brutal murder of Elena and his decision to manipulate his daughter from childhood on were unforgivable.

"Oh, and don't blame Black Lotus for what she did. I talked her into it." He didn't know why he was defending his former bodyguard, but he felt compelled to be honest for a change. Maybe Elena was already proving to be a good influence on him. It was almost like she was standing next to him, whispering encouragement to do the right thing.

"I suspected as much," Dragon Azteca grumbled. "Antonio is good at brainwashing people, too. I can tell that he got into your head, and your sister's..." He shook his head again. "Without her mother around, the poor girl never had a chance."

A fresh stab of pain pierced Dario's heart for everything that his baby sister had been denied. "Well, she's got me now, and I'm going to protect her the way a big brother should," he vowed. "And, if there's anything I can do for Elena..." He trailed off, remembering the reason behind Catrina's trip to Jeremiah Crane's place. If their plan was a success, Elena would be whole again-but Dario had learned enough about resurrection magic to realize that it always came with a high price.

If he wasn't mistaken, his father's ex-best friend actually looked at him with respect. "I don't have many good things to say about you, Dario, but I know family is important to you and you intend to keep those promises. I just hope your father is no longer a part of that family."

"He isn't. I realize now that he is every bit as wicked as the mother I disowned years ago. And I'm not part of the Order anymore, either-not since one of my father's minions gunned me down." It was surreal to admit that part of his life was over, and stranger still to discuss the subject with one of his father's longtime enemies. Prior to his untimely death, Dario's adult identity revolved around being Antonio Cueto's son, belonging to the Order, and ruling the Temple. Without his other roles as a big brother-to _two_ siblings now-and a stepson, he would have felt utterly and hopelessly lost after having been stripped of his previous roles.

"Good." El Dragon Azteca couldn't have looked more pleased with the other man's response.

"I want you to know that I regret my role in your death," Dario continued. "If I had known about Elena and Gabriela and how you tried to protect them..." He hung his head with a sigh. "I wish things had turned out differently." For both of them, his stepmother, his half-sister, even Black Lotus, who had to live with the knowledge that she had killed her mentor over a lie...

"So do I," sighed Dragon Azteca. "But at least you're trying to change..." He paused. "Who is the woman you were with earlier? The one who is neither alive nor dead?"

"Catrina. She works at the Temple as a manager." Actually, her job was keeping Mil Muertes under control so that he didn't cross the fine line between inflicting pain and suffering upon his opponents and slaughtering everyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. "I assure you that she's on our side." Dario had always believed Catrina to be utterly heartless and self-absorbed-she probably would have said the same thing about him not so long ago-but recent developments had him rethinking his impression of her.

El Dragon Azteca nodded in satisfaction. "I will be keeping an eye on both of you-but I like what I've seen so far. And, if there's anything _I_ can do to help get revenge on your father, just say the word." Dario nodded vigorously, and he thought he saw a faint smile on the dead man's masked face just before he vanished.

Dario went back to the sofa on shaky legs to await Catrina's return, relieved that his encounter with El Dragon Azteca had gone better than he had anticipated. He was sitting there staring at the Ouija board like an evil spirit would attack him if he so much as touched the planchette when the recently-replaced light bulbs in the lamps flickered on and off. Catrina stood before him, her eyes becoming round and her brows arched high once she got a good look at him. She set a couple of books down on the table, approached Dario, leaned down, and turned his face to the side to better examine the left half.

"You are no longer wounded. What happened?"

"I healed myself with the key," Dario declared proudly.

She nodded and let her hand drop. "Impressive, witch."

He couldn't wait another second to find out what she had learned, although he was also anxious because she had been gone much longer than he had expected. "So, what did Jeremiah have to say? Can we bring Elena back?"

Catrina's rueful expression gave him the answer before she said even one word. "I spoke to both Jeremiah and Vampiro. Unfortunately, neither man knows how to return a spirit to nonexistent flesh, although Vampiro is looking into it. I even asked Aerostar if he could go back in time to solve our problem, but he is uncomfortable with undoing what has already been done."

"Its probably for the best," Dario muttered, and slumped in defeat-although he was also amazed at Catrina's dedication to finding an answer for him. "Elena won't be herself if she comes back either way, right? We might never truly get her back..." It felt as if there was a gaping hole in his chest-like someone had cracked open his ribs, autopsy-style, and ripped out his heart, leaving him empty inside. He wanted his stepmother to live out the rest of her natural lifespan and be reunited with her daughter, but at the expense of everything that made her special? Was that fair to either of them? The more he thought about the potential for disaster, the more selfish and stupid he felt.

Catrina, on the other hand, suddenly appeared more optimistic than he would have expected after her dim revelation. Dario was baffled by her sudden change in demeanor.

"It's possible Gabriela will have an answer for us, but we will never know until I can speak to her. I do, however, know of an alternative to what you are asking. It might even prevent your worst fears regarding Elena from coming true-but there are no guarantees."

He raised his head, his eyes wide with skepticism. "If by 'alternative' you mean possession, forget it. She would never go for that."

"Well, it's not exactly possession if the host body"-Catrina's own eyes narrowed and she frowned, and Dario knew she was thinking of the Order's definition of the term-"is unoccupied, is it? I know where to find a recently deceased woman without a soul-and no, I do not need to kill anyone to get the body." Now a smile played out on her lips. Dario was so awed by her suggestion that he hadn't realized until that moment he was holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, feeling hope fill the hollow space in his chest where despair had taken up residence only moments before. "Your stepmother will still be dead, but she will feel alive again."

Dario leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me more."

* * *

Elena couldn't help but feel intimidated as Gabi drove away from the parking lot of the grocery store and headed back to her father's mansion. The prospect of seeing even a glimpse of Antonio at the door was stirring up all kinds of heavy emotions. He might not be able to physically harm her any longer, but the memories of his abuse had stayed with her-and he could still hurt her through their children. She was so protective of them that she had refused to cross over after she died, eschewing the eternal peace and a reunion with deceased loved ones promised by the white light to watch over her daughter and stepsons.

The ghost was seated in the backseat directly behind the passenger seat-as close as whatever magic guarded her daughter would allow her to get in the cramped space, always just out of touching range-and watching the blur of familiar landmarks. She tried to console herself with the knowledge that Dario had walked away from his father's cult and was being protected by the intimidating Catrina and Antonio would be unable to navigate the staircase that led to Matanza's cell. But, now that she believed Dario to be dead, Gabi was perhaps more loyal to Antonio than ever.

That was bound to change once her mother told her the truth through Catrina...The spirit was grateful to the undead woman both for agreeing to help Gabi and for resurrecting Dario, and Elena was also glad she had taken a chance and approached her oldest stepson. Antonio was either mistaken, or, most likely, lying when he called his sons "hopeless cases." Meeting Dario and watching Matanza interact with his sister told Elena the two were just as committed to their family as she was.

That's why she felt that a suitable punishment for Antonio was to lose the "unconditional" love and respect of all three of his children. Because of his wealth, connections, and magical powers, Elena knew that he would never serve a conventional prison sentence for any of his crimes.

For once, Gabi wasn't blasting music and singing along while she drove. There was only an eerie silence, which implied that she was in an introspective mood today. Elena recalled how much her daughter seemed to enjoy talking with the man at the coffee shop-PJ, the same man she had hexed at the Temple the day before-and she was proud of her for trying to make amends. They were obviously smitten with each other, and Gabi would benefit from being around someone who could give her the warmth and affection she was lacking. But Elena had reservations about the two pursuing a romantic relationship or even simply being friends.

Her worries had nothing to do with PJ being somewhat older or even a werewolf and everything to do with her former husband's determination to isolate their child from outsiders. There was no doubt in her mind that Antonio would retaliate with violence-Elena couldn't predict whether he would target PJ alone or subject Gabi to his wrath, too- should he discover that the girl had become close to a man who wasn't part of the Order. He had probably planned an arranged marriage between Gabi and one of his followers-someone like that lecherous councilman. Elena shuddered to think what might have happened if she hadn't witnessed him touch her daughter's leg and gotten so angry that she caused a temporary power outage.

She knew that Dario would not tolerate such a thing, either, and wouldn't hesitate to join her in stopping Antonio's diabolical plans concerning his youngest child's future. Thinking about her eldest stepson brought a smile to her face. There had been an instant connection between them, and, just from talking to him a few times, she could tell that his protective big brother instincts already extended to his sister. He also had taken a sincere interest in getting to know, and helping, his stepmother. And Matanza...Well, Elena firmly believed he would come around with enough kindness and patience. Neither man had gotten much of either from their biological parents. She had been startled when he had noticed her shadowing Gabi as the latter approached his cell, but then Dario had explained about their father sacrificing him as a boy, and she was heartbroken to realize that was the reason Matanza could see her.

They were in front of the mansion now, and Gabi used some kind of one-handed magical motion to bypass the security gate. There was already an unfamiliar black car parked in the otherwise-empty driveway. The youngest Cueto pulled up alongside it and got out to inspect the other vehicle with a puzzled look while Elena exited via teleportation. After a few seconds of examination, Gabi shrugged and retrieved two paper bags worth of groceries from the backseat, shut the car door with a bump of her hip, and carried the bags up to the doorstep. She set them down and performed another graceful hand gesture-one that mimed unlocking the door and resulted in a click.

The ghost braced herself for what was to come as she followed behind. The love she had once felt for the man had been long ago been replaced with fear, disgust, and even hatred. Elena had never hated anyone before in her entire life, but she had come to loathe Antonio as much as she pitied him. There were some things-and he was the one individual-not even she could forgive.

She knew he wasn't alone, but she had expected him to be in the presence of one of the Order's henchmen-not receiving a hug from a much younger woman. It was clear from Gabi's stiff body language that she had been thinking the exact same thing. Her hand fell from the doorknob as she watched in disbelief through the open doorway.

"Papa?" she asked uncertainly.

The tall woman standing in the front hall with her arms locked around Antonio's neck in a rather intimate manner turned when the door opened, but she did not let go. She was dressed like she had just come from, or was about to visit, a stable-riding boots, tan breeches, a white blouse-but her leather mask indicated that she was a luchadora. Her long, fine, jet black hair was fashioned into two girlish pigtails. Antonio, meanwhile, had developed an ashen complexion and looked about as guilty as a young boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Both daughter and mother stared at the couple for a long time, too shocked-and repulsed-to utter a word. It was incomprehensible to Elena that any woman would find Antonio attractive in his present state, let alone once she got to know him...The masked woman must be after his money, then. But she doubted that a luchadora was moonlighting as an escort, so what _was_ she to him? His lover? His _girlfriend_? Elena's horror increased when she realized that her husband was still wearing the ring she had placed on his finger twenty-six years ago during their wedding ceremony.

"Gabriela..." A mortified Antonio immediately extracted himself from the embrace with a one-handed shove using the hand that wasn't clutching his cane, while the jilted woman came forward to look at Gabi with interest. Elena moved to Gabi's right side so she could study her daughter's face as she stood immobilized on the doorstep. She looked pale and betrayed, but there was a flush in her cheeks that Elena recognized at once-a sure sign that she was about to lose her temper.

Her father must have seen the warning, too, for he was quick to make introductions-and explain himself.

"Mariposa, this is my daughter, Gabriela. I believe you already know who Mariposa is, Gabi." Elena disliked hearing him call their child by the nickname _she_ had given her but which Antonio rarely used himself.

A smirking Mariposa stepped forward while twirling her pigtails. "The legendary Aztec Cueto...It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Gabriela." She gawked at the younger woman like she had finally caught a glimpse of an endangered species in the wild. Gabi was hardly the only Mexican with Spanish and Aztec ancestry-the description applied to Elena as well-but she _was_ the only person in the world whose heritage combined Cueto witch genes and DNA from one of the seven tribes.

She glared daggers at Mariposa before turning her anger against her living parent. "What is _she_ doing here?" she demanded of him. Her rudeness was forgivable under the circumstances.

He cleared his throat. "Mariposa and I met when I visited Dario at the Temple a few weeks ago. She came here to ask me to cast a spell or mix a potion that will make her brother lose interest in Melissa Santos, and I agreed to help."

"Yes," Mariposa agreed, and directed a reassuring smile at the still-fuming Gabi. "I was just expressing my gratitude to your father and got a little carried away."

Antonio nodded and attempted to steer the former towards the door. "Excuse us, Mariposa. As you know, the Cueto family has recently suffered a tragedy, and my daughter and I wish to mourn in private."

Elena didn't believe for a second that he was in mourning, but she knew their daughter was indeed grieving. She had come straight home from her visit to Dario's office and wept into her pillow until she had no more tears to shed. Maybe she had taken the bull statue to feel closer to him.

"Of course." Mariposa smiled at the red-faced younger woman. "It was nice meeting you-and I'm sorry to hear about your brother." She placed a hand on Gabriela's forearm as if to console her, and the latter jerked her arm away like the touch had scorched her skin. Mariposa spared one last glance over her shoulder for Antonio, and the look in her eyes was one of pure lust.

 _She_ wants _him,_ a stunned Elena realized. And, if the glint in Antonio's good eye and the subtle smirk on his face was any indication, he desired her, too. It was beyond nauseating. She could only imagine how incensed Gabi must feel, although she knew her daughter would choose to believe Antonio once she calmed down. It was far easier-and less painful-to accept his side of the story than thinking that her father might be moving on from the mother she still loved and missed every single day. How, then, was Elena ever going to convince Gabi that he had murdered her?

"Thank you again...Mr. Cueto."

"Stay away from him," Elena warned the other woman even though she had already confirmed that she was both invisible and inaudible to Antonio's...whatever she was. Her impulsive verbal reaction had roots in her motherly instinct to protect others. "He's evil. He killed me, and he'll kill you, too..." She shoved Mariposa hard enough to make her stumble, although Elena's intention was only to scare the living woman away and make her reconsider coming back. The latter turned her startled brown eyes on the ghost without seeing her, then shook her head and marched to her car. The security gate promptly slid open, and she backed out of the driveway and took off. When Elena turned around, she saw Antonio make a gesture that involved sweeping his fingers inward. Almost immediately, she heard a rattling noise as the gate went back into place.

Elena's heart broke a little when Gabi collected her groceries and stomped inside. Antonio wearily closed the door behind her. Unless she ventured outside again or ran another errand, that was the last her mother would see of her for the day. It was agonizing to get so close to her own child and yet be unable to touch her or follow her inside her father's home.

"How is she?" El Dragon Azteca's gruff voice asked from Elena's left. He was suddenly standing on the sidewalk, looking down at her in sympathy.

"Upset," she sighed. "She just saw her father being hugged by a strange woman." And by 'strange,' she meant in every sense of the word. "I saw it for myself."

He scrutinized her pinched features with a concerned frown. "And how are _you_ doing?"

Elena tried to smile. "I've been better."

The other spirit put a comforting arm around her shoulder while they stared at the front door as if waiting for Gabi to storm out of the house at any second or to hear a shouting match between daughter and father, but neither happened. Simply being around the man made Elena feel better, however. El Dragon Azteca had reconnected with her after he, too, had died as a result of foul play, and the two instantly rekindled their friendship-a friendship that Antonio had tried unsuccessfully to dissolve when he and Dragon Azteca had a falling out. In her longtime friend, Elena recognized a kindred spirit who also valued integrity and embodied empathy.

Sometimes, she wished she had met him before Antonio and married the Mexican man instead-he would have made a wonderful husband and father-but the trade-off was that she wouldn't have Gabi or Dario and Matanza...She didn't know the depth of Dragon Azteca's feelings for her, but, looking back, she recalled that Antonio had long ago sensed the special connection between the two of them...

 _"Who were you on the phone with?" Antonio demanded right after Elena said goodbye and replaced the receiver on the wall-mounted telephone in the kitchen._

 _"My sister, Ana. Why?" She got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she recognized the flash of ire in her husband's eyes and stood from her chair, ready to bolt the second he clenched his fists. These days, he lost his temper over anything and everything..._

 _He shrugged. "You hung up as soon as I entered the room. I just assumed you were talking to El Dragon Azteca."_

Not this again! _Elena thought with a frustrated sigh._ _"I told you: I was talking to Ana. And Dragon Azteca is just a friend-"_

 _"No, he isn't," Antonio seethed. "I can tell by the way you two look at and talk to each other...He's the man you'd rather be with-or maybe you've_ already _been with him."_

 _Elena gasped, appalled. It was the first time that her husband's complaints about her friendship with El Dragon Azteca had led to an accusation of cheating or an affair. "That's not true! I would_ never _cheat on you!" She was relieved that their daughter was taking a nap during their argument and prayed that Antonio wouldn't raise his voice and wake her._

 _"I have a hard time believing that." He smirked at her in a knowing way as he leaned in close and placed his hands on the wall to either side of his wife, trapping her between him and the chair behind her. A bolt of fear shot through Elena, making her pulse spike, as his dark eyes bored into hers. The man she had loved was long gone, and sometimes-like now-she got the impression he had been replaced with an evil spirit. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to grab Gabi and run, but she was still in shock from Antonio's accusation of cheating and too frightened of his temper to move. "Let_ _'s be honest, Elena. We're both miserable, and yo_ _u two have always been so close that it wouldn't surprise me if you turned to him for comfort-"_

 _"You're wrong. I have always been faithful to you, Antonio._ Always _." Elena_ _paused to collect herself with a deep breath and fidgeted with her diamond wedding ring before locking eyes with him again._ Stay calm, _she ordered herself as she held back tears of frustration._ _"I believe in honoring my vows."_ Unlike you _...Al_ _though she had no hard evidence of infidelity on Antonio's part, he had certainly failed to "love, honor, and cherish" her once it became clear she couldn't give him the son he wanted above all else. It was tempting to point out that they were "both miserable" because he couldn't be happy with the family they already had and often vented his frustrations on his wife. Elena bit her tongue, however, because arguments always led to Antonio yelling at her and were sometimes followed by physical abuse that left her bruised or bloodied and weeping afterward._

 _Her husband regarded her coldly, unmoved by her protests, then stepped back and shook his head with disgust written all over his face. Now that there was some distance between them, Elena could breathe a little easier. "If Gabriela didn't look so much like me, I would question w_ _hether she is my child or El Dragon Azteca's..."_

"What are you thinking about now?" El Dragon Azteca asked gently as he withdrew his arm and turned to meet Elena's eyes. "You look so unhappy."

She gazed up at him with a resolute expression. "I was just remembering how vicious Antonio can be...Dario and his friend, Catrina, are helping me get Gabi away from that monster, and I've decided I have to save that woman from him. I won't let what happened to me happen to another woman." She wasn't just talking about being murdered; she was also referring to the physical and emotional abuse, the compulsive lies, and the anguish caused by the increasing pressure to give him a son. Although she was unhappy with Mariposa's behavior towards Gabi and had a feeling that the "butterfly" was trouble, no one else should ever have to endure the sheer hell her former husband had put her through.

El Dragon Azteca squeezed her hand. "You're a good woman, Elena. Antonio didn't deserve you-or your little girl."

"He doesn't deserve _any_ of us," she corrected him with a meaningful look that included him in the group afflicted by Antonio's sadism and mind games. Dario, Matanza, and probably even their mother had been his victims as well, and Elena's parents, siblings, and extended Mexican family had suffered greatly in the two decades since she was taken from them.

Elena refused to let Antonio add even one more name to his list of victims.


	14. Offerings

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: The last section contains a spoiler for the second part of Ultima Lucha Cuatro in the form of hints about a certain character's identity and storyline.**

* * *

Catrina sat down next to Dario on the sofa. "As I have said before, my mother will die once the halves of the Piedra Immortal amulet are reunited and her immortality is transferred to me. She will not be needing her body anymore."

"I see." Dario tried to wrap his head around the concept of Elena's soul inhabiting the body of the icy police captain who despised him. It would be jarring to look into "Captain" Vasquez's face and know that his stepmother was lurking beneath the surface, but it had to be a hell of a lot better than spending her afterlife as a phantom. "And how does your mother feel about my stepmother's ghost inheriting her body?"

"I haven't asked her yet-but she has no reason to object." Dario thought it was just like Catrina to volunteer her mother's body without asking permission first, but he wasn't passing judgment since he had tricked men into fighting to become a host. "Once she knows what a lovely woman Elena is, and how valuable her daughter is to our cause, she will be glad to do it. Besides, her sole purpose in life is to save the world from the Order and the Aztec deities." She smiled slightly. "We can all help each other achieve our dreams."

"Not overly ambitious, is she?" Dario joked. By contrast, Elena's only goal seemed to be protecting her children-and, as someone who had never felt truly wanted by either of his biological parents, it was an honor to be included in that category-from their father. He doubted that someone with her sensitive nature even wanted revenge against her killer. "Will Elena's new body age like a normal person's?"

"I would assume so, since she will no longer have the amulet which prevents aging and death."

"There's just one little problem." Actually, there could be a multitude of problems caused by a ghost moving into someone else's flesh, but one in particular was at the forefront of Dario's mind. Catrina waited patiently for him to express his concerns. "I doubt anyone will recognize Elena"-unless they'd seen her face on a missing person flyer back in Mexico, and, even then, no one would expect her to look exactly the same twenty years after her disappearance-"but your mother is a local celebrity. Surely, someone will notice if something's a bit...off about her."

Catrina nodded slowly, like she had anticipated his question. "I was thinking about that myself, and I believe your sister can find a solution. If she can make herself invisible, then it's likely she can use magic to conceal my mother's true face."

"That _would_ make things easier, especially if Elena can get her own face back..." At least when Dario looked in the mirror, he still recognized himself-aside from the distinct black tinge to his irises, which he actually thought was pretty cool and unique. He wondered if his stepmother would look like the woman who had died in her early thirties or the fifty-something woman she would have been had she lived.

"I agree." But Catrina pursed her lips and gave him a look of warning. "However, I must warn you that there could still be complications. I have never done anything like this before and do not know what kind of mark it will leave on Elena's spirit."

"I think she will be all right...Eventually," Dario replied, but without a hundred percent certainty. Nobody would know for sure until sometime after the procedure was done. "I believe Elena is stronger than anyone gives her credit for..She had to be, to put up with my father for so long." He tapped his chest and put on a smile, although thinking about Elena's miserable marriage to Antonio had darkened his mood. "Look at me. I turned out okay-for the most part."

The undead woman gave a low, throaty laugh that was sexy as hell. "Yes, but you were so evil before that it's possible you _couldn't_ get any worse."

Dario made a sour face at her even as his spirits were lifted by a sudden stroke of genius. "Thanks for the compliment. Anyway, your idea is a very good one-great, even-but I agree that we should get Gabriela's advice before proceeding." He played with his key while he spoke, turning it over in his hand repeatedly. "Still, more than anything, I wish I could find a way to return my stepmother's soul to her own body..." It would be the best gift he could give the woman to thank her for the love and acceptance she displayed towards him and Matanza-although offering her an alternative human form was the next best thing.

"I don't suppose your father might have any relevant spell books in that vault of his," Catrina said slyly.

"Probably, but Elena said it's too dangerous for you to go there," Dario reminded her. Dangerous for _him_ , too: if anything happened to her, he would surely end up dead-again.

"I am not afraid of the big bad witch, nor do I believe I have been magically banned from his home." Her smile bordered on angelic. "After all, what reason could I possibly have to return after obtaining the gauntlet?"

"Just...be careful. Please." He hoped he didn't sound or look too desperate, and that the sinking feeling in his gut was just paranoia.

"Of course." Then Catrina was gone, and Dario sat in silent agony while he was forced to play the waiting game. He was even more glad to see her than the book in her hands when she returned several minutes later.

"I found this book lying on a shelf, separate from the rest, and thought it looked promising," Catrina announced as she handed a dog-eared volume to Dario. _Death Magic._ He wasted no time turning the pages in search of an index. "It appears to be a favorite of your father's."

"There _are_ some rather obscure spells in here..." Dario's quest eventually led him to exactly what he needed: a spell with the mindblowing title of _Body_ _Reconstruction and Soul Restoration_. "I think I found something. Can you get me paper and something to write with?" He had the fleeting thought to photograph the spell with the cellphone he'd left in the inside pocket of his jacket hanging in the bathroom, but common sense made him reconsider. Was the convenience _really_ worth the risk of being tracked by someone in the Order?

She left to gather what he had requested, and Dario felt increasingly optimistic as he scanned the list of ingredients, convinced that they, together with Gabriela, either already had or could gain access to everything required-even the more personal or obscure components. While he had nothing against Catrina's idea of moving his stepmother's soul into another woman's shell of a body-it was a damned good concept, actually-he knew from personal experience that coming back from the dead was incredibly traumatic. It would ease the transition a little if Elena had as much of her old self back as possible instead of being forced to adjust to life in someone else's body.

Catrina reappeared next to him on the sofa and handed him several sheets of white paper and a pen.

He thanked her as he took the entire stack, rested it on the opposite side of the book, and began writing as quickly and lightly as possible so as not to leave indentations in the book's yellowed pages. It wasn't until after he started writing that it occurred to him that he had neither jumped when Catrina did her teleporting thing, nor hesitated to show gratitude for the minor favor.

Catrina sat in silence reading the spell while Dario's pen continued to race across the sheet of paper. "Mystical ingredients aside, our biggest challenge might be acquiring a simple of Elena's DNA," the former stated after she had finished reading.

"I don't think that will be a problem. Surely, Gabriela must have inherited _something_ of her mother's-something that Elena handled or wore often enough to leave skin cells behind. Jewelry, her violin, maybe some of her artwork..."

"Any of those things would likely do the trick."

As Dario skimmed over the steps, he wondered if anyone could perform the spell or if it required a skilled magic practitioner. He also found himself continuing to fret over the potential side effects. Drastic changes in personality and wild mood swings were to be expected, as was maintaining a connection to the dead, but what about physical attributes? Would Elena's "reconstructed" body be susceptible to aging and disease? Was she going to die eventually? Perhaps she would remain exactly the same and have to move every few years to keep people from noticing that she was literally forever young.

Now that he thought about it, Dario had some of those same questions about his own physical form...But those questions would have to wait. He had witch business to attend to at the moment.

Catrina fell silent again while Dario finished copying the spell. "You know," she began the second his pen stopped moving, "Aerostar told me I had already found a better way to bring Elena back than time travel. I thought he meant my original idea of putting her soul into my mother's body."

"So far, he's the only one who knows the answers to all of the questions," Dario said philosophically, since he was also unable to decipher the meaning behind the time traveler's cryptic message. Now that he had the spell he needed, he returned to the table of contents to see what other useful magical tricks he could learn from it. There were eight ominous categories listed: _Making Contact with Spirits_ , _Protection Against Ghosts_ , _Controlling the Dead_ , _From Dead to Undead_ , _Restoring Life to the Deceased_ , _Death from a Distance_ , _Soul Binding_ , and _Destruction of Souls_. His father might specialize in the dark arts, but the spells sandwiched in between the covers of _Death Magic_ ranged from good to neutral to evil. "I wish I could keep this book," he mused in awe. "A lot of these spells are exactly what we need right now-"

"I agree, but I expect that your father will notice it is missing and use magic to determine who stole it." The discomfort written on Catrina's beautiful face spoke volumes, and Dario was forced to concede the point to her. They could both wind up on the wrong end of the Cueto patriarch's infamous temper- _again_ , in Dario's case.

"Then you had better return it soon. But first, I want to copy down a few more spells..." He set about scribbling the specifics from the most relevant sections. One of the spells revealed how to cast a kind of invisible shield that would prevent ghosts from coming near and linking said barrier to an item of jewelry or clothing. That was exactly what he and Catrina had discussed after his mother's latest attempt on his life.

"If we can pull this off, imagine what else we could do," he commented as he finished jotting down the last spell. He hesitated. "You know, I sometimes wish Matanza could be fully human again. There might be a way to make that happen-if he wants it, that is. Ultimately, it has to be his choice." After so many years of both god and man coexisting in the same body, Matanza might be opposed to losing the superhuman strength, invincibility, and the unquenchable thirst for violence that had defined him from the moment their insane father had sacrificed the boy. Or maybe he would welcome the chance to engage in conversations with the rest of his family and to experience the thrill of performing human magic.

The only choice their parents had given them was to follow orders or face consequences ranging from verbal abuse, to beatings, to shunning, to death.

Naturally, Catrina looked stunned that he would even suggest such a thing. Who in their right mind would want to give up having a god for a personal bodyguard? But Dario was willing to make that sacrifice for his baby brother's happiness.

"One thing at a time, Dario," she said at last. "Once you master magic and we defeat the Order, you will be free to use your powers however you choose. However, since this project concerns your family, you should probably get your sister involved."

He nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. It might even help us bond." Dario tried not to get his hopes up, because Gabriela had heard nothing but bad things about him from their father and might be suspicious of his motives. Realistically, it could take a long time to earn her trust...But he yearned to have a good relationship with his half-sister and prove to her that he wasn't the selfish, sexist, callous man Antonio had portrayed him as. Well, he wasn't that man _anymore_...He had Elena and El Dragon Azteca around to hold him accountable and ensure he made every effort not to go back to his old ways. For that, he was thankful to the benevolent spirits. To slip up now would be to risk losing the two women who had become so precious to him.

Catrina's somewhat melancholy visage indicated that she seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "I hope so. I think it's time I put that spell book back." Dario reluctantly handed it over.

While she was gone, he realized something that brought him a great deal of amusement. He was still snickering when Catrina reappeared, which caused her to arch a brow and stare at him with an emotion akin to concern in her eyes.

"Are you having a belated mental breakdown?"

"No, no...I was just thinking how ironic it would be if we succeed at casting this spell. It would mean Elena's killer is indirectly responsible for bringing her back to life-and in a replica of the body he had destroyed."

* * *

The entire Worldwide Underground-and Ricky Mundo-had agreed to go out to a late breakfast together following their morning workout. As soon as the waitress brought drinks and took their orders, everyone peppered PJ with the questions he had promised to answer after exiting the coffee shop in a daze and speeding off on his red Ducati.

He had instantly recognized the woman's intoxicating, and distinct, raspberry and chocolate "perfume" even from across the street. Up close, he had also detected notes of vanilla, rosemary, and a floral scent he couldn't identify. The kind young woman who bought him a drink today was the witch who had hexed him with a wicked headache and memory loss only yesterday. Between the shock of running into her again-and _not_ by coincidence this time, he felt-and uncovering some vital clues to her identity, PJ had needed a few minutes to himself to process everything.

She was not at all what he had expected, and he was grateful for that.

"What's her name?" Ricky wondered.

"What did she want?" Johnny questioned.

"Did she ask you out?" Taya wanted to know.

"So, are you gonna take her sweet ass to Slamtown tonight?" Jack asked with a sleazy smirk. PJ had been debating who to answer first, but Jack's question-one he might have brushed off in the past with a laugh and a crude response of his own-got under his skin for some reason.

"Show some respect, Jack," he growled, and the other man was so shocked by his defensive reaction that he snapped his usually flapping jaw shut. If they hadn't been in public, PJ would have bared his fangs and flashed his yellow-orange wolf irises at the other man. Revealing his animal side always freaked Jack out and was a source of amusement for his friend. "Gabriela is a _lady_." Unfortunately, according to the glimpse he had gotten of her driver license, she was also a Cueto. There had been a "T" name tacked on to the end of Cueto with a hyphen, but PJ had gotten only a quick peek at her license and hadn't seen the full name. As if that wasn't incentive enough to keep his distance, she was a witch who belonged to a doomsday cult, too. It was hard to think of a worse combination.

If PJ had been blessed with common sense, he would have thanked her for the water and walked out the door without giving her his number. But she possessed some irresistible, intangible quality that drew him to her like a magnet...

"'Gabriela'...Damn. Even her _name_ is sexy," Johnny sighed with a dreamy look in his eyes, only to receive another closed fist to the arm from Taya. He yelped and turned to her in disbelief as he rubbed his sore bicep. "What? I swear I'm not into Latinas anymore! You know you're the only woman in the _mundo_ for me, babe." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder affectionately, and, although she rolled her eyes, she made no effort to wriggle out of her boyfriend's one-armed embrace.

"I'd better be," Taya huffed, and the menacing look in her green orbs served as a reminder that, though her wings weren't on display and her sword was elsewhere, she was still a Norse demigoddess not to be trifled with. For Gabriela's sake, PJ was relieved that she hadn't paid any attention to Johnny. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out who would win a fight between a valkyrie and a witch, and shuddered to think how Taya would react should she ever learn that Gabriela was involved with an apocalyptic cult.

"Nobody asked anybody out-although I did give her my number. She just said she wanted to do a random act of kindness for someone and bought me a bottled water." He shrugged like he hadn't felt a distinct spark between them. "That's it."

"Random, my ass," muttered Johnny. "She only had eyes for _you_ , bro." His remarks caused relief to pass over Taya's face like a swift-moving cloud; she was still furious with Johnny for gaping at Gabriela, yet ecstatic at the reminder that the other woman didn't pose a threat to their relationship.

Ricky looked glum as he played with the straw in his glass of ice water, making clinking noises with the ice cubes inside that irritated the Darewolf's ears. "She didn't even _look_ at me..." He wondered why the younger man even cared about catching a pretty stranger's eye. Ricky was so obsessed with becoming Johnny Mundo Version 2.0 that PJ figured he was holding out for a Taya lookalike to complete his gimmick. Gabriela might be a woman with red streaks in her hair and supernatural powers, but, on the surface, she didn't appear to have much else in common with Taya. Of course, he wouldn't know for sure unless he got to know her better...

The valkyrie leaned across the table and lowered her voice. "Is she...human?"

"Uh, yeah..." But, unlike the human women PJ had dated in the past, Gabriela was also a witch. He didn't think a magic user would be put off by him turning into a wolf now and then.

Her face fell. "Oh. Too bad."

" _You're_ dating a human," PJ reminded her.

Johnny laughed. "That's different. I work at the Temple." He flexed both arms with a smirk of superiority etched on his pretty boy face. "Besides, I'm such a badass with my parkour powers that I'm practically supernatural."

"And he's modest, too," Jack mumbled.

"Well, you're the expert on modesty, Jack," Taya fired back at him.

He grinned at her. "You're damn right I am. Actually, I'm an expert on _everything-_ "

"Even parkour?" Johnny challenged as he wiggled his brows.

PJ sipped his green smoothie with an amused smile, then slipped back into his thoughts while the others bickered with and teased each other and Ricky pouted over being ignored yet again.

Detective Reyes had described the young witch as Mexican and Aztec, and she _did_ have that jaguar tattoo on her arm, so that might be the tribe she was descended from...Then how was she connected to the Cueto family of Spain? Marriage? PJ hadn't seen a ring on her finger, though-and he knew there wasn't one because he had covertly checked. After what happened to his father, he wouldn't even _consider_ entering into a relationship with a married woman. Maybe Gabriela had been adopted, or...Could she be Dario's biological daughter with some woman-some _witch_ -from Mexico? She was young enough, and he was old enough-and, come to think of it, she _did_ kind of resemble him...He wondered if Dario was the reason she got sucked into the cult and whether he was also the reason behind her visit to the Temple.

The werewolf made a mental note to research the meaning of hyphenated surnames in Mexico as soon as he got home. What he learned just might answer some of his questions.

Since PJ couldn't make sense of Gabriela's Cueto ties, he instead moved on to analyzing the interesting facts that his heightened senses had confirmed. In addition to the suffocating grief she carried around-possibly connected to Dario's presumed death-a wave of remorse had slammed into PJ the moment he entered the coffee shop. He was convinced that nobody who was truly evil at heart would harbor regrets over _doing_ evil. The young witch came across more like a conflicted cult member who felt unable to leave the group than a diehard fanatic who would kill for her leader without hesitation.

She might be the only Cueto in existence with a heart.

And, most importantly, there had been an obvious mutual physical attraction...Just thinking about her feigned ignorance of the chemistry between them was enough to make him smirk. If she had been anyone else, he would have pursued her without reservations.

He then reflected on what Reyes had asked of him on behalf of his boss. PJ could do the entire world a favor by infiltrating this young woman's life, spying on her, and reporting any secrets she might share with him to the police-but, after their second meeting, he didn't have the heart to sell her out to the authorities, Taya, or anyone else. Even with limited information to go on, he had already arrived at the conclusion that Gabriela should be treated like a victim as opposed to a hardened criminal. The Darewolf also believed that someone so tormented would end up leaving the cult eventually and probably seek help from law enforcement on her own.

He brushed his hand against the cellphone in his shorts pocket, as if by doing so he could will her to contact him at that very moment, but the device remained frustratingly silent. Maybe he was asking too much to hope for friendship, let alone a more intimate relationship, with a cult member, but, if Gabriela would just give him a chance, he might be able to provide her with whatever she was lacking...

The man was slightly annoyed with his inner wolf for making him act obsessive over some human woman he barely knew, but he couldn't help himself. That side of him meant he was happier in a pack-in his case, a pack usually took the form of a wrestling stable, like the Worldwide Underground, Nexus, or the Corre-and drove him to protect his "pack members" at any cost. The wolf also compelled him to seek out a mate. But he could only blame so much of his attraction to Gabriela on animal instincts; his human side was also fascinated by the mysterious lady, but for entirely different reasons.

PJ was relieved when the waitress, a cute brunette Jack had unsuccessfully attempted to flirt with earlier, arrived with their food. Everyone was too famished to resume the discussion, and PJ would prefer to be alone with his thoughts for awhile longer, anyway.

Something told him he was fated to have another encounter with the Mexican Cueto witch-and soon.

* * *

Ironically, Mariposa _had_ come to Antonio's home because she wanted to cure her half-brother of his relentless obsession with Lucha Underground's ring announcer-but that wasn't _all_ she wanted from him. Antonio couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering back to their last meeting as he used his cane to slowly follow his daughter into the kitchen.

 _"I just heard about Dario," Mariposa blurted out the moment Antonio opened the front door. "Martin saw it on the news...Missing, possible foul play...You have my condolences, Antonio." She looked at him in an appealing manner and twisted one of her long, black pigtails around her finger. Antonio gulped, distracted enough by her flirtatious behavior to temporarily forget what he had intended to say. "We were both very fond of him, you know."_

 _He glanced past her, half expecting to see Gabriela's car pull up to the gate right then. "Ye_ _s, thank you, but this isn't a good time-"_

 _"I thought maybe you could use some company to take your mind off of things."_

 _"So did my daughter," he informed her dryly. "Gabriela is staying with me for a few days, and she is on her way back home. You can't be here when she returns." If Mariposa's father found out about their trysts, he would disown her and cut her out of his will. Antonio didn't know what, if anything,_ _Señor_ _Martinez would or even_ could _do to him, a magic user. But, if Gabriela learned about their unsavory association, the consequences might prove fatal for one or both of them..._

 _"Why not?" She dared to walk past him into the front hallway as if she, too, lived there. "I've always wanted to meet your special little girl...Just tell her I'm here on business-which I am."_

 _"'Business'?" Antonio shut the door and turned to give her an incredulous look. He couldn't remember a time when Mariposa had approached him with something other than pleasure on her sick and twisted mind._

 _"Among other things," she informed him with a coy smile, as if she had just read his mind. "Marty is still obsessed with Melissa Santos even after she humiliated him at Ultima Lucha." She rolled her eyes, and her exasperation with her half-brother's fixation on the brunette was also evident in her weary voice. "It's tearing apart the Martinez family...I want you to use your magic to make him fall out of love with the peasant girl."_

 _"And what do I get in return?" Antonio Cueto didn't work for free._

 _"Anything your heart desires," she purred, "and I do mean_ anything _..." Antonio licked his lips, the woman's promise having caused his heart to skip a beat before speeding up. There was one thing he wanted more than anything in the world-one thing even endless prayers to the gods during his marriage to Elena had failed to deliver-but it would be impossible under the circumstances...He would have an answer for how she could repay him he next time she graced him with her presence._

 _"A potion," he announced after giving the other matter some thought. "I can create a hair growth potion for your brother"-Marty wouldn't hesitate to drink it after forcibly getting his head shaved-"that will also spell the end of his infatuation with Melissa. I will need a strand of her hair or a piece of her flesh, though."_

 _Mariposa smirked. "You just leave that to me." She laced her fingers behind his neck and gazed hopefully into his eyes, and Antonio forgot that his daughter was due to arrive soon. He forgot about everything except his beautiful, seductive butterfly. "Surely, there's time for just...one...kiss," she purred before batting her lashes alluringly and leaning in even closer-_

"Mariposa wants more than just magical favors and to offer you sympathy, Dad," Gabriela informed her father, and her voice was an unwelcome intrusion on his sinful memories. There was a brittle edge to it that told him she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. She placed her paper grocery bags on the kitchen table with a thump, then began removing items and setting them down rather noisily. "She wants _you_."

Antonio pretended to look surprised by her declaration, even though he had been carrying on with Mariposa in secret for roughly two weeks. Although he suspected the butterfly from the Moth tribe was more interested in the thrill of a taboo relationship with a Cueto than him in particular, he couldn't deny how flattering it was to have a young, attractive woman express interest in him. He was also pleased that she shared his bed without expecting payment in return-unlike every other woman he'd been with since Elena's death.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed as he sat at the table, intent on convincing her she was making a big deal out of nothing. Mariposa would be in mortal danger if Gabriela believed she was trying to take her mother's place. "Who would want a half-blind old man who walks with a cane?"

Gabriela stopped unloading food and drinks and took a moment to choose her words so as not to insult her father. "I know what I saw. Mariposa obviously found _something_ in you that she likes."

"Even if Mariposa _is_ attracted to me, I assure you that I have no interest in her." He paused, knowing he had to play the Elena card again, and twisted his wedding band for emphasis before imitating a pained smile. "Nobody will ever compare to your mother, Gabriela."

That did the trick. Gabriela's expression softened, her eyes became misty, and she developed a strained smile of her own. There was a long pause before she replied. "I know, Papa, but I'm sure you must get lonely sometimes..."

"I do-but, over the years, I have learned to enjoy my own company." He reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Still, your visit will do us both some good." It was one of those moments when he was grateful the girl was naive like Elena and as blindly loyal as Dario.

"How does a Spanish omelet sound for breakfast?" she asked abruptly, much to her father's relief, as she resumed unloading groceries. He was ready to discuss a less stressful topic, if not stop talking altogether.

Antonio plastered on a grin of approval. "Delicious." _If someone else is making it..._ Without Elena around to pass on the culinary skills she had learned from her own mother, Gabriela struggled with kitchen tasks outside of mixing potions.

To her father's amazement, the home cooked meal turned out only somewhat burned, and, for the most part, was actually edible. But the girl would need to greatly improve her cooking before she got married.

They ate in a silence that was more companionable than tense. Antonio could tell Gabriela was in a better mood because she ate like a normal person today instead of picking at her food the way she did whenever she was upset. He waited until she was nearly done before issuing a warning.

"You don't have to like Mariposa-"

" _I don't_ ," she snapped, eyes flashing.

"But, now that you will are in control of the Temple, you should try being civil towards her," Antonio finished irritably."It's not good business to make enemies before your first day at work."

"Too late," Gabriela muttered as she stabbed at her last, char-free bite with a fork. "I think King Cuerno wants to kill me."

 _The gauntlet._ After learning that Catrina had revived Dario, Antonio could no longer be certain that she had returned the empowered metal glove to Mil Muertes. Maybe she had taken it for her own selfish reasons, or perhaps it was now in Dario's possession...The idea of his vengeful, forsaken son wielding the power of a god was enough to turn his father's blood to ice. The elder male witch decided to use astral projection when he got a chance to determine the gauntlet's current whereabouts.

Still, Antonio welcomed the change of subject. "Don't worry about the hunter. He didn't see you take the gauntlet and has no idea who or what you are."

"He thought I was Catrina at first," she admitted, finally looking up at him. Some of the anxiety etched into her features had already melted away, and Antonio realized then that his practically fearless child was actually afraid of Cuerno.

"You see? He's looking for a ghost with an axe to grind-not a witch with jewelry that renders her invisible."

"I hope so." Gabriela put her fork on the plate next to the burned remains she couldn't stomach eating and stood up. "I'm going to take a shower, then feed Matanza. The cops should be gone by then-but I've got the bracelet just in case." She paused to look over her shoulder at Antonio on her way out of the kitchen, and her eyes were as dark as a winter night. "I'll _try_ to be polite to Mariposa, but I swear I'll incinerate that psychotic bitch if I ever see her near you again."

Antonio smiled in spite of the threat against the woman he found so enchanting and hastened to finish his own breakfast. Statements like that alleviated his old fears that, regardless of her magic and resemblance to both Antonio and Dario, Gabriela might actually be El Dragon Azteca's daughter. No one with both Dragon Azteca's blood and Elena's running through their veins would even _think_ of making such a grisly vow.

Without music or television playing in the background, the sound of water running in the upstairs shower could be heard loud and clear from downstairs. Antonio knew it would take Gabriela awhile to wash her long, thick hair, and he would be foolish not to take advantage of her prolonged absence. Because his daughter had a nasty habit of going through his things, he had moved the _Death Magic_ book back to its usual home on a shelf in the vault, and he thought about shutting himself in there to do some more studying.

He knew from experience that it was easy to kill someone long distance, but, so far, all of his research indicated a soul could only be captured or obliterated when the magic user was close enough to touch the deceased individual. Still, he might have overlooked something, and it wouldn't hurt to double check...

If he didn't resolve this Dario mess soon, the Lord would have his head. Agent Winter's, too, but that was _his_ problem.

Although Antonio was considered the leader of the Order, he was better described as the prophet who represented the interests of the Aztec gods and goddesses. The true mastermind behind the organization, the one actually pulling the strings, was the Lord. He had first spoken to the Cueto patriarch many years ago through a spell-long before the ideal host body was found for him-and informed the man of the best way to serve the gods. The disembodied deity had put the witch in charge of finding like-minded, equally influential human beings to serve him and using magic to bring the other gods back in new bodies.

Thinking about the Lord inspired Antonio to reconsider visiting the vault and try a different approach. Since he hadn't yet found a way to destroy Dario's soul in addition to his body without direct contact, then perhaps offering the entire undead package to the Lord as a sacrifice would absolve the older man. A gratified smirk slowly spread across his bearded face as he imagined the many barbaric varieties of torture his failure of a son might be subjected to at the Lord's hands.

But he still had one more child to sacrifice, and, since he was planning to choose Gabriela's husband anyway, it seemed appropriate that he offer her to the Lord first. He had already acknowledged both her magical prowess and her beauty during their first meeting, and, as an Aztec god possessing a former pro wrestler and bare knuckle fighter of imposing stature, he would have no trouble keeping the petite witch in line.

Perhaps he would agree to let Antonio keep Mariposa as a thank you gift...The latter was already worried about his exquisite butterfly getting killed or turned into a goddess vessel once the war came, and now he also feared his impulsive, hot-headed youngest child's reaction should she discover the extent of their relationship...Once she was married, the latter would be too busy carrying out both her wifely duties and her Order-related, magical responsibilities to harm Mariposa. But the other dangers remained, and Antonio was enjoying the young lady's depraved company far too much to risk losing her-even if the price was the bodily autonomy of his only daughter and most faithful disciple.

If Elena learned of his latest scheme involving their little girl, she would abandon her nonviolence policy in a heartbeat and butcher her former husband. Well, she would if he hadn't been clever enough to put a spell on his wedding ring which kept ghosts at a safe distance...

Antonio reached for the cellphone he had stashed inside the drawer of the side table and placed a call to Agent Winter first. "I have learned that Dario was brought back by Catrina. I will take care of them. And, the next time you kill someone, destroy the corpse immediately," he snapped, then ended the call before the stunned FBI agent could say a word.

He took a minute to compose his thoughts before reaching out to the Lord. "Greetings, my Lord," he began tentatively once the man-god answered two rings later. "I wish to arrange a private meeting to discuss a matter of great importance."

"I hope," the deep voice spoke in the thick British accent of his chosen host, "that you haven't got any bad news."

"On the contrary," Antonio reassured him. "I would like to make a couple of sacrifices to you. I think you will be pleased with my offerings." A vision came to him unexpectedly of the lovely Mariposa, and his breath hitched in his throat. _And I hope that you will make a concession or two for me in exchange.._


	15. Planning for the Future

"So, what did the wicked wizard of Spain have to say?" Marty "The Moth" Martinez asked his half-sister as soon as she walked through the front door of the gorgeous mansion they shared. He looked ridiculous with his head only partially shaved, but he stubbornly refused to get rid of what little hair remained.

Mariposa scowled when she noticed a familiar brunette in skimpy black clothing curled up on the sofa next to her younger brother. Her head was resting on his shoulder and he had one arm casually wrapped around her slim waist. Reklusa's spider-themed mind games had proven useful in the Martinez siblings' feud with Sexy Star, but Mariposa neither liked nor trusted the other woman. Reklusa watched her moodily through deep set hazel eyes emphasized with a liberal application of gray eyeshadow, black liner, and mascara, indicating that the feeling was mutual. She was Marty's friend-not his sister's.

"Feet off the table," ordered Mariposa sternly when she realized the others were using the coffee table as a footstool. Honestly, what was the point of having nice things if you were just going to disrespect them? Although Marty grumbled under his breath, he ultimately complied with her request, but Reklusa shot a resentful glare at the older woman and didn't move a muscle except to defiantly fold her arms over her chest. "You, too, Reklusa." If "Spiderwoman" moved her feet a few inches to the left, she would knock over the vase and spill water and flowers all over the table...

Reklusa glowered at her. "I don't live here and I don't have to follow your rules." In truth, she actually spent most of her time at the Martinez compound hanging out with Marty. Mariposa had no idea where or how she lived when she wasn't there.

"You do if you want to keep visiting," Mariposa snapped. She had half a mind to change the locks without telling either of them the next time they left together. Marty whispered something in Reklusa's ear, and the brunette placed her feet on the floor with a devious smirk.

"I did it for him-not you," she informed Mariposa smugly, and returned to her previous position with her head on the man's shoulder, although her feet remained planted.

Marty looked impatient to get back to the original subject. "What did Antonio say, Mariposa?"

"The witch has agreed to make a potion for you. You will have your hair back in no time." It might take a few weeks, but the potion would work quicker than anything one could find on the marketplace. If he started to look even remotely like he did when he debuted in Lucha Underground with shorter hair, Mariposa would consider the experiment a success. Best of all, the potion was guaranteed to rid him of his infatuation with that sickly sweet Melissa Santos.

"Thank the Aztec gods for that," muttered Marty. The commentary mingled with screams coming from the television indicated that he and his female companion were watching a documentary on serial killers.

"Thank Antonio Cueto," his sibling corrected him. Mariposa would have thanked the witch in a way both would have enjoyed had his daughter not shown up when she did. She disagreed with her father's belief that the girl was an abomination for her mix of Cueto and Aztec genes, but Gabriela _was_ a nuisance and a threat to Mariposa's secret relationship with Antonio.

"Hey, was his daughter with him?" Mariposa's expression must have answered Marty's question, because a lascivious grin immediately crossed his face. "Is she hot?" Reklusa, who looked equally intrigued with the current topic of discussion, cackled in the background.

Mariposa crossed her arms over her chest and gave her brother a reprimanding look. "It doesn't matter because she is _off limits_ , Martin. You know how Father feels about the Cueto family." Any interaction with a Cueto-aside from business transactions-was strictly forbidden, and there were _always_ severe repercussions for disobeying Señor Martinez. He despised them so much that he had invented offensive nicknames for each member of the family. Antonio was always referred to as "Satan"-but that didn't deter Mariposa from sleeping with the devil...Ironically, her father probably would have approved of Martin pursuing a woman like Gabriela if she hadn't been Antonio Cueto's daughter.

Marty nodded with a sullen pout. "Yeah, I know..." He twisted one of Reklusa's long, straight strands around his finger as his attention drifted back to the show they had been watching. Mariposa hoped that reinforcing Father's ironclad rules would make her seem even less likely to break them. Gabriela was already suspicious of her, and there was no telling what Marty would do if he uncovered evidence of his sister's illicit affair...She knew he was still pissed off at her for helping Melissa humiliate him at Ultima Lucha, even though she had sworn she was just trying to help him move on. He needed to focus on bringing gold to the Moth tribe instead of obsessing over a lowly ring announcer.

Regardless of the potential danger, she would have seduced the entire Cueto family just to rebel against her controlling father, but Dario and even Matanza had outright rejected her advances, and she'd heard that Gabriela was only interested in the opposite sex. Antonio, on the other hand, was thrilled to have Mariposa lavish attention on him-and eager to reciprocate. She actually liked the older man enough to have committed the cardinal sin of allowing him to see her unmasked.

The risks, she decided, were worth it and only heightened the excitement of breaking the rules.

Mariposa left her brother and the spider woman parked in front of the television and went upstairs to her bedroom. Now that she was alone, she got the distinct impression that someone was watching her. And was it just her imagination, or had the temperature in her room suddenly plummeted? Although it was an unseasonably warm fall day, inside it was cold enough to make her shiver. But she had closed the door behind her, and she would've heard it open if Marty or Reklusa had come in...She slowly pivoted in a circle, ready for a fight, but she couldn't see anyone.

The woman frowned as she recalled a strange incident that had taken place as she was leaving Antonio's home and heading towards her car. She remembered receiving what felt like a push from behind and stumbling on the sidewalk. At first, she had blamed Gabriela, but, when she turned around, she discovered that the witch was busy picking up the paper grocery bags she had set down on the doorstep.

That meant whoever had shoved her was invisible-like a ghost. And now it seemed that same ghost had followed her home.

Mariposa smirked as she reached for the gold hairbrush on her dresser. _I always wanted to live in a haunted house..._ She wondered whether the invisible visitor might be the spirit of her recently deceased employer. Maybe Dario had been checking up on his grieving father-and little sister-and had taken offense to the sight of Mariposa with her arms draped around Antonio's neck.

If so, more than one of his children was just as opposed to the idea of their relationship as her father. Mariposa rolled her eyes at the thought. As far as she was concerned, those were ancient grudges that should be buried like their ancestors. Then again, would the time she spent with Antonio be nearly as exciting without the taboo aspect?

She took her time brushing out first one pigtail, then the other, while she debated whether to change her hair color to blonde or red. When asked his opinion on the subject, Antonio declared that she would still be his "beautiful butterfly" either way and she could do whatever she wanted with her hair.

By the time she finally set down her brush, she discovered that she had left the cap off the bright red lipstick she had hastily applied before leaving the house. It would be a shame for a brand new-and expensive-cosmetic to dry out...She took the cap in hand and was reaching for the tube to reassemble the lipstick when the tube levitated from the dresser. Mariposa watched in disbelief as a hostile message was then scrawled on the adjoining mirror in oversized printing: _LEAVE HIM ALONE!_

"Leave 'who' alone?" she demanded, but she knew at once whom the statement referred to. While most people probably would have been scared to death in a situation like this, she felt only a mixture of curiosity and confusion. She dropped her voice, not wanting her brother or his strange friend to overhear her one-sided conversation should either come upstairs. "Antonio?"

 _YOU'LL BE SORRY!_ Whoever had left the threat-or perhaps it was a warning-suddenly flung the lipstick across the room. It bounced off the wall, leaving a red smudge on the gray paint, and landed on the tile floor. After a moment, the hairbrush also flew off the dresser, sailed right past Mariposa's head, and crashed into the wall near the lipstick stain with a resounding bang. There was a sizeable dent where the latter had connected.

"Who _are_ you?" By now, the woman was utterly bewildered. She didn't think Dario would reach out to her by writing on mirrors with makeup. Part of her was also aggravated that the unknown phantom was damaging her property.

The spirit's only response was to conjure up an icy breeze that ruffled Mariposa's freshly groomed pigtails. She stood perfectly still save for the chills racking her tall frame while she tried to make sense of what had just happened and the room grew warmer until the air had returned to a comfortable temperature.

After a minute or two had passed, the door flew open. "Hey, sis, I-What the hell?" Marty instantly forgot whatever he had intended to say when he noticed the writing on the mirror and was reduced to silently gaping.

"Apparently, we have a ghost now," she stated calmly, and walked over to retrieve the lipstick and hairbrush lying on the floor. She cursed under her breath when she picked up the brush and noticed a fine crack in the floral-patterned handle, then collected the smushed lipstick.

He smirked as he strolled into the room to study the foreboding messages up close. "Either she's jealous or she's trying to warn you."

"'She'?" He nodded, and his sister stiffened before forcing herself to stand upright. "What makes you think the ghost is female?" That was an angle Mariposa hadn't considered: her dead messenger might be one of Antonio's former wives. Or maybe Gabriela had snuck in with a magical disguise to render her invisible...Mariposa ruled out that possibility almost as soon as it entered her mind. The temperamental young magic user would have done something _much_ worse to her than just tell her to back off.

Marty laughed like she was being an idiot. "Come _on_ , sister. The lipstick, the fancy handwriting...Our new friend is obviously a woman." He grinned and rubbed his hands together gleefully. "This is going to be more fun than having a pet-and we can't kill someone who's already dead." He nodded towards the graffiti. "So, who are you supposed to stay away from?"

"I have no idea," she lied through her teeth as she wondered whether Antonio had received similar threats. "Probably _you_...Now get out so I can clean up this mess."

"Have fun." Marty turned and left, his feet slapping the steps as he made his way downstairs. Mariposa could also hear him shouting to Reklusa with delight that the house was now haunted. She cringed when she overheard his friend suggest they should "have a seance" to learn the ghost's identity and hoped the others would soon be so busy plotting against Sexy Star that they forgot about her bright idea. All hell would break loose if word got out that she was intimately involved with one of the Cuetos-especially the patriarch of the family, whom Father despised most of all.

Mariposa reflected on what little Antonio had told her about the women he married while she deposited her ruined belongings on the dresser. According to him, Dario and Matanza's mother had been a "crazy, violent bitch-and not in a good way" he had left back in Spain. He'd heard that she was murdered years later. She was the reason he had that scar on his otherwise handsome face. Gabriela's mother, on the other hand, was a kindly Mexican woman descended from the Jaguar tribe who had vanished without a trace two decades earlier. After all this time without a single sighting, she _had_ to be dead, right? It was hard to imagine such a woman choosing to abandon her child, let alone walk out on such a sexy husband...

His first wife definitely sounded like the vengeful type. His second wife? Not so much, but maybe she was afraid Mariposa might take her place in the Cueto family. Which was ridiculous, of course. She couldn't imagine Antonio would be eager to remarry after both of his previous marriages had ended in tragedy, and Gabriela would probably murder anyone who tried to replace her mother, anyway.

But nobody-living, dead, or undead-was going to stop Mariposa from being with the man. On the contrary: the more others protested, the more determined she became to continue her forbidden affair. And so what if Father found out about their scandalous rendezvous and severed all ties with her? She was convinced that Antonio would happily share his considerable riches with his lover as long as his physical needs were met. She brightened when she realized that he might even grow so fond of her that he would decide to write her into his will.

It was Gabriela who worried her, what with her hot temper and overprotective attitude towards her papa. But there was surely _something_ Antonio could say or do to make his daughter tolerate Mariposa's presence in his life if their secret got out...

"I'm not going _anywhere_ , bitch," she hissed with clenched fists, although she was certain the ghost had already pulled a disappearing act. "'Til death do us part,' remember? He's moved on-and so should you."

* * *

"How is my sister doing?" Dario blurted out. He had lost interest in finishing the crust of his sandwich and leaped from his chair at the kitchen table as soon as Elena materialized. The ghost seemed to be spending a lot of time paying unannounced visits to Catrina's cramped apartment-but the latter couldn't blame her for wanting company. Dario was probably the only living person his stepmother knew with whom she could have mutual conversations.

Catrina herself didn't mind Elena's presence because she inspired Dario to be on his best behavior and left Catrina feeling rather human by comparison. She remained seated and took note of the stressed look on the spirit's face. It was probably fair to assume that Gabriela was having a bad day. Could she actually be _in_ _mourning_ for her oldest brother? Was that why she had stolen the bull from his office-to have something to remember him by? Her attention shifted back to Dario, and it was almost painful to see the anxiety swimming in his blackened eyes as he fretted over his youngest sibling's well-being. The undead woman unwittingly flashed back to mental images of her own long-dead sister and brothers before locking those memories away alongside the other memories that brought her grief. Now was not the time to reflect on such things.

"Not good," Elena sighed, causing her stepson to furrow his brow with added concern. "She caught one of your luchadoras with her arms around your father and she's hurting and angry." She paused to do a double take, and it would appear she had noticed that the scratches on Dario's face were gone. "I didn't like it, either."

"Which luchadora?" Dario inquired while Catrina was trying to determine which of them would be attracted to a Cueto. Although she had never laid eyes on Antonio, if he looked anything like his eldest son he must be quite handsome. Or perhaps he more closely resembled Matanza...Either way, the infamous Spanish family had a sinister reputation that preceded them and generally repelled those in the know.

Catrina had to admit that-like her-Dario embodied darkness both inside and on the outside, and she couldn't help but be drawn to someone like that. But there was also something appealing about the heroic side starting to emerge in him-

"He called her Mariposa."

Dario groaned and rubbed his forehead as if he felt a headache coming on, but Catrina believed the unstable woman was likely well suited to the equally violent older man. Mariposa seemed to enjoy torturing others as much as Antonio and his first wife, so it wasn't exactly surprising that he would be attracted to someone like her-especially after his tumultuous marriage to Elena, who was clearly incompatible with him. She kept her thoughts private, though, because Dario and Elena wore matching horrified expressions of disapproval.

"She came to my office when he was visiting me last month," Dario informed Catrina, who had just been wondering how Mariposa and Antonio had crossed paths. The man slowly shook his head as he returned to his chair. "My father was very interested in her..." He cringed. "Mariposa flirted with him, it's true, but I had no idea the feeling was mutual-or that they would act on those feelings."

"Any woman who gets involved with Antonio is in danger," Elena insisted. _"Someone_ has to protect her, so I, um, followed her home and told her to stay away from him." She looked resolute. "And I'll keep warning her until she gets the message."

"What do you mean, you 'told' her?" Catrina asked. She could tell immediately whether someone had been touched by the cold hand of death by examining their aura-it would contain a darkness that never fully disappeared, only faded with time-but she had never had a reason to summon Mariposa's aura before...She couldn't remember ever crossing paths with the female member of the Moth tribe.

"Well, she couldn't see or hear me, so I used lipstick to write on the mirror. I even threw a few things around for effect." Elena looked more embarrassed by than proud of her actions. "I don't want to hurt her-just scare her off."

"That might be easier said than done. Mariposa doesn't scare easily," Dario remarked. A puzzled look came over him a second later. "Wait...Why don't you just leave messages for my sister like you did for her?"

"Because I'm afraid to reach out to her," his stepmother confessed. "I'm worried if I tell her the truth, she'll run off to confront her father and put herself in danger. Gabi is impulsive and volatile...She doesn't always think things through before acting. But, if you or Catrina are with me when I tell her, you can talk sense into her."

"We're going to save her," Dario promised his new mother figure with shiny eyes. "And we're going to save _you_ , too."

She was so startled by his promise that she could only stare at him for the next several seconds. "I-I don't understand," she said at last.

The other two individuals in the kitchen exchanged glances, and Dario nodded permission to Catrina. "You may not have to remain a ghost for much longer, Elena. Dario and I have each found a way to bring you back to life."

Elena's wide-eyed, unblinking stare conveyed first astonishment, then skepticism, and, finally, a glimmer of hope. "But...But I don't have a...Is that even possible without a body?"

"Yes. One option is to inhabit the body of a woman who has died"-Elena's mouth opened in protest, but, being too polite to interrupt Catrina, she quickly closed it-"and whose spirit has already crossed over. Not possession, exactly...Think of it like moving into an abandoned house."

Judging by the dazed look she wore, her head must have been spinning already. Elena sank into the nearest unoccupied chair, located next to Dario and diagonal from Catrina, while she absorbed the first option and waited to hear the second. "I see," she murmured, sounding calmer than expected due to being in shock. "And what is the alternative?"

"I found a spell that can recreate your original body," Dario explained. "Among other things, it requires a sample of your DNA-perhaps from something of yours my sister inherited-and blood from a close relative...Just a little bit." Elena's nose had wrinkled at the mention of bloodletting, but she was clearly awestruck by the possibility of returning in her own flesh. Catrina noticed that Dario had neglected to discuss the supernatural elements of the spell in any detail. "I believe Gabriela will be able, and more than willing, to provide the necessary ingredients."

"Either way, there will almost certainly be side effects," Catrina informed her. "It will take awhile to adjust. In the meantime, you may find yourself becoming someone you don't recognize or even like." Dario looked like he wanted to kick her under the table, but it was only fair that Elena have some advance warning.

"It's worth the risk," Elena insisted, and, in her steely voice and the determined set of her jaw, Catrina saw a little of that legendary Jaguar tribe ferocity shining through. " _Anything_ has to be better than being a ghost!"

 _Be careful what you wish for,_ Catrina thought bitterly before realizing with a start that she was in a rather enviable position compared to the others. She could make her presence known to anyone and everyone and teleport as needed. She also possessed a physical form, yet was impervious to pain. Nor could she-to the best of her knowledge-die again. The undead woman didn't know how to respond. Elena _probably_ wouldn't end up an ice queen like her, but there was no way of knowing the outcome until after the procedure of her choice was done. They were entering uncharted territory with this project.

Dario spoke up before she could. "It's true that I've suffered-and changed-in some ways since Catrina brought me back, but I want you to know that I have no regrets. Ultimately, though, it's your decision."

Elena didn't hesitate to make her feelings known. "I _have_ to do this. There's nothing I want more than to hold my children and talk with my little girl...It doesn't matter whether I'm in my own body or someone else's." She went silent temporarily while she made her choice. "But I suppose Gabi would prefer having _all_ of me back if possible."

Dario smiled, and Catrina guessed that he was thinking along the same lines as she was: it was typical of Elena to base her decision on her children's preferences. Catrina had never known anyone more unselfish in her entire existence, and she actually respected Elena for putting her family first. But she had paid the ultimate price for doing so in the past.

"Then that's what we'll do," he declared, although he expressed regret afterward. "Unfortunately, it can't be done right away. For one thing, we need my sister's help-and, for another, you're safer as a ghost until my father and his cult have been...dealt with."

Catrina's lips twisted into an ironic smile. Dario's reason for delaying his stepmother's return to life was the same reason she had chosen to hold off on becoming immortal.

"I can wait a little while longer...Thank you, Dario and Catrina. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." Elena dabbed at her eyes before the tears could overflow, but she was beaming. Catrina recalled that, for reasons she failed to comprehend, some people cried out of happiness, and Elena _was_ rather emotional in general...The spirit sighed and made a strange, offhand remark once she composed herself: "I'm looking forward to feeling like myself again."

Dario frowned. "You mean being alive?"

"That, too." Her forlorn gaze looked past the others, into a dark time and place buried deep in her memories. "Your father wanted to control me, and he criticized me for every choice I made without his approval-everything from my beliefs to my appearance." Dario's frown deepened, and Catrina shook her head in disgust at the extent of Antonio's tyrannical behavior. "I wanted to prove I wasn't his property-that I was my own person-but it wasn't worth the trouble, so after awhile I just...gave up fighting him." She shrugged as if to say that bending to Antonio's will was a minor sacrifice and better than the alternative of constantly being berated and abused.

"He was wrong to treat you like that, Elena," Dario spoke up, looking as infuriated as he had when the dead councilman had made that disrespectful comment about wanting to seduce Gabriela. Catrina nodded in firm agreement. Mil's attempts to control her in the past had left her feeling piqued and made her openly defiant. She couldn't imagine enduring years of living with such a dictator. "And, for the record, I see nothing wrong with you-except for being a ghost, but we can fix that," he added with conviction.

"That's very kind of you to say." The smile that had formed on Elena's gentle face carried a trace of discomfort. "Gabriela is much more of a rebel than I ever was, but even she knows not to push Antonio too far."

"Has he ever...hurt her?" Dario's voice was low and filled with anxiety. Catrina was convinced that he already wanted to kill Antonio for everything he had done to Elena, and that homicidal rage towards the old man would consume him if he learned Gabriela had been abused, too. It was the same reaction Catrina would expect from either Mil or Jeremiah should another man threaten, let alone touch, her. Those protective instincts towards women seemed to be coded in the DNA of many men.

Antonio Cueto was an obvious exception.

Elena shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of, but I've heard him yell at her a few times...I think after what he did to me, he's scared the Aztec gods will punish him if he lays a hand on her."

"They're not the only ones," Dario uttered under his breath. Unsurprisingly, he looked-and sounded-positively _murderous_.

Gabriela's maternal connection to the Jaguar tribe might have spared her from beatings, let alone being executed or sacrificed-unlike her half-brothers-but the girl was still a prisoner in her own personal hell. Catrina could tell by watching Dario's somber face that he also grasped Gabriela's grim reality.

"I want to visit Matanza and take him something to eat," he announced to Catrina after they sat in silence for a bit. Then he turned back to his stepmother with a smile. "Come with us and I'll properly introduce you to your other stepson."

A delighted Elena immediately stood. "I would love that."

"Elena, can you check the Temple first to make sure we will be alone?" Catrina requested. She wondered if Aerostar was still standing on the roof, lost in thought, and if the police had concluded their investigation yet. "As one of the undead, I cannot turn invisible." It was the sole ability associated with the fully dead she wasn't blessed with-not that she considered _any_ of them blessings.

The ghost nodded. "Of course. I will be right back." She returned a few minutes later while Dario was piling raw meat onto a plate and confirmed that no one else was there besides his brother. Catrina got up, clutched Dario's hand, and took him straight to the room housing Matanza. Elena arrived a second or two later. Matanza rushed toward the bars, expressing his excitement at the visitors through labored breathing.

"I know you've already seen her, Matanza, but I wanted to introduce you to our stepmother, Elena. She is the mother of our half-sister I told you about."

Understandably, the brunette looked a little overwhelmed, not to mention saddened, as she studied what remained of her youngest stepson. But the smile that came to her face once the shock wore off was in no way forced.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Matanza. I've always wanted to be part of your life..." Elena tentatively reached out and touched his masked face. Matanza instinctively tried to grab her hand, then grunted in surprise and pulled back when his own hand went right through his stepmother's phantom flesh. He unfurled his fingers and stared at his palm for a moment before he locked eyes with Elena.

Dario spoke to his male sibling in a soothing tone. "Don't worry, brother. Unlike our other mother, Elena doesn't intend to do you any harm-and you can't hurt _her_ , either."

 _I don't belong here._ Catrina got the distinct impression that she was intruding on a private family moment. The only way she could have felt more like an outsider was if Gabriela showed up to complete the Cueto reunion. She had already started to back away from the others to give them space.

"I will wait in the office while you three bond," she declared, and took off before the ghost and the witch could turn around and give her looks of confusion, sympathy, or both.

As always, every lightbulb in the room came to life when she entered. The chair was gone-presumably confiscated as evidence by the police-so she perched on the edge of the desk instead and crossed her legs while she studied the office.

 _This is where Dario's life ended-and where our adventures together began._ Someday, it would be filled with candles again, the walls would be repainted red, and Catrina's name would be written on the door once more-but that knowledge didn't exactly fill her with smug satisfaction.

Dario had lost much since his first life had come to an abrupt and vicious end, but Catrina found herself envying him in at least one regard. Yes, his biological parents were so evil they were practically demonic, but he also had a brother he loved, a stepmother who considered him her own son, and a half-sister who needed him. Witnessing Elena interacting with both her stepsons had triggered Catrina's earlier melancholy state into returning. The touching scene served as a reminder of just how empty and lonely her existence was. She supposed her mother must still love her if she was willing to trade her life to give Catrina immortality, and both Mil and Jeremiah would do _anything_ to make her theirs, yet those were still hollow, one-sided relationships...

That wasn't the kind of life she used to have, nor was it what she hoped for once she became immortal. Catrina had to make some big changes or else her future was going to be as depressing as her present...

She had no idea how long she sat on the edge of the desk, lost in thought while staring morosely at the floor, but she glanced up when a pair of translucent legs clad in sandals and a blue, knee-length skirt appeared in her line of sight. Elena stood before her with a worried look.

"Is something wrong, Catrina?"

Catrina's first impulse was to snap that she was fine, but the sincere concern on Elena's features and in her quiet voice made her reconsider. Although the lady in black generally preferred the company of men, after a long moment of deliberation she decided it was safe to confide in the other woman.

"I sometimes envy Dario for having a family. Not everyone is so fortunate."

Elena cocked her head. "Meaning you?"

She gave the most subtle of nods. "All I have left are my mother and a few distant relatives I have never met." _Very_ distant...Catrina had lost track of how many generations they were removed from their ancestors whom she had known during her short life. "And my mother and I are estranged." She knew she was at least partly to blame for that, but, after wrestling with resentment, anger, and grief for two hundred years, she just couldn't imagine letting go of her grudge and forgiving Marie. The thought was simply incomprehensible to her.

"I'm sorry to hear that-but you're welcome to become an honorary member of my family if you like." Elena's suggestion was punctuated with an inviting smile that coaxed a smile out of Catrina. A supernatural misfit like her would fit right in with a family consisting of witches-one of whom was undead like her-a god in human form, and a ghost. And she knew that Elena, who considered her stepsons as much her children as her own daughter, would welcome her with open arms.

"I am not sure how Dario would feel about that. We haven't always been on good terms." _That_ was an understatement. And Dario was already going to have to share his new mother with his brother and half-sister...He and Gabriela would most likely resent Catrina for intruding on their limited quality time with Elena.

Elena looked taken aback. "Really? I'm surprised. You two seem pretty close to me."

"Well, things _have_ changed between us recently..." acknowledged Catrina. She believed that Dario's self-preservation instincts were only partially responsible for the transformation taking place within. He also seemed to be driven in equal measure by his need to protect and gain acceptance from his stepmother and siblings and by his vengeful fury towards the Order-his father and Agent Winter in particular. Already, there were signs that Dario was starting to evolve into a better version of himself. "I may take you up on your generous offer someday, Elena." She wished to avoid disappointing the compassionate-and helpful-apparition by outright declining her suggestion. As an afterthought, she decided to thank the other woman.

Elena shook her head. "I should be thanking _you_ -for saving Dario, agreeing to help Gabi, and giving me a second chance at life. I wish I could do something to repay you-"

"No payment is necessary," Catrina interrupted somewhat awkwardly. Elena and Dario were the only individuals who had expressed gratitude to her in recent memory, and performing acts of kindness without expecting something in return felt unnatural in a surprisingly pleasant way.

Just then, the door opened wide enough for Dario to poke his head inside the office. "Ah. There you are, Elena." He glanced back and forth between the two women as if trying to solve an intricate puzzle, but he made no attempt to enter the room. Catrina thought it must be very uncomfortable for him to revisit the scene of his murder-especially since the office had been his sanctuary for several years. "Is everything all right?"

His stepmother nodded while Catrina's feet found the floor and she stood. "Yes. I was just having a woman-to-woman talk with your friend."

 _Friend._ If anyone else had had referred to her as Dario's friend, Catrina would have promptly-and vehemently-dismissed the notion. Since Elena was inclined to give the benefit of the doubt to everyone, she might not be the best judge of character, but she was also no longer the naive, carefree young woman who had been conned by a predator. If she could sense the goodness within her children while acknowledging their faults, then maybe she had perceived a connection between Dario and Catrina that both were oblivious to. It was certainly something to consider.

"Oh. I see." Dario gave Catrina a questioning look, but she wasn't about to repeat her confidential conversation with Elena. "Well, I'm ready to go whenever you and Catrina are."

When fighting a war, it was essential to surround oneself with trustworthy-and powerful-allies. And, if some of Catrina's allies became friends along the way, then maybe she could look forward to an immortal life that wasn't lived in complete isolation. She wanted to be human, or as human as she could be under the circumstances, and participate in everyday human experiences. Friendship seemed to be an integral part of most people's lives.

But she and Dario could never be friends no matter how much they had in common or how strong a bond they managed to form. The other men in her inner circle would eviscerate any male brave-or foolish-enough to get close to Catrina, and it would be equally foolish to believe she could keep Dario's presence in her life a secret from them forever...

* * *

Everyone who got into a limousine with the Lord had to be downright terrified-and rightly so-but some individuals were better at masking their fear than others. As Antonio Cueto climbed into the backseat and pulled the door closed, it quickly became evident from his shaking hands that he did not fall into the latter category.

Seeing the petrified looks in the others' eyes was one of the most gratifying parts of the Lord's secret meetings with Order minions.

"This won't take long," Antonio assured him. He stared straight ahead since he could not see the menacing figure from where he sat. "Now, about those sacrifices..." The elderly witch trailed off and paused to lick his lips. It seemed that he needed a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

"Go on," the Lord prompted. His time was valuable, and he did _not_ have patience for anyone who dared waste it.

The human's nerves made him rush through his speech. "Unfortunately, thanks to Catrina and her magic rock, Dario survived being shot, but-"

"You said you didn't have any bad news," the Lord interrupted irritably. Dario's miraculous resurrection was nothing short of a potential disaster for the entire Order. The Lord had declared Dario "a liability" and commanded Antonio to get rid of "the weak link" in the Cueto family before his incompetence ruined any more of their plans. At least there wasn't much damage he could do as a ghost.

Antonio looked mortified. "I did not anticipate Catrina's intervention...I thought those two despised each other. However, my loss is your gain. I will personally deliver Dario to you so that you may punish him as you see fit for his failures and treason."

The Lord waited awhile before responding just to make Antonio squirm. "I accept your first sacrifice." He grinned a malevolent grin that could not be seen by his associate in the darkened limousine and lit a cigar, already envisioning the many creative-and excruciating-methods he could use to shatter Dario Cueto's mind, body, and soul.

"Gracias, my Lord. Also, my daughter is twenty-five now-almost twenty-six-and I think it's about time she was married. I-I would like to offer Gabriela to you as a bride-if you're interested, that is."

The Lord puffed thoughtfully on his cigar. Gabriela...The name conjured up memories of a young lady-and a powerful witch-who had always shown the Lord the utmost respect as well as faithfully completed her assignments. His male, human host body was certainly not immune to her feminine charms, but why settle down with this girl when he could take any woman he wanted any time he chose?

"Her powers will serve you exclusively if you desire," Antonio added with a hopeful expression.

 _Tempting..._ The deity smirked with his new, ruggedly handsome face. Having a female witch at his beck and call to perform both magical and sexual favors would be a tremendous asset even to an all-powerful Aztec god. Different, but equally useful, powers had been bestowed upon human magic users than his kind, which was why he had chosen one of them to represent the gods' interests. And her magic was no match for his strength, so he didn't anticipate any trouble should the girl find the arrangement disagreeable. But the Lord did not share Antonio's interest in ensuring that his daughter's royal Spanish and Aztec bloodlines were passed on to a new generation. If he expected the Lord to father heirs on his behalf, then he was sorely mistaken.

"As I recall, you promised her powers to _all_ the gods," he reminded Antonio, whose complexion turned a chalky shade one did not normally associate with a native of Spain. The Lord had witnessed him murder his second wife and Gabriela's mother, who was more of a house cat than a jaguar, and he vividly recalled hearing the man's desperate plea to the male deities afterward.

"I did, yes," Antonio backtracked, "but the other gods-and goddesses-only need her assistance to return in human form. After that, she will belong to you in every sense of the word."

It was impressive how little the man cared for his own flesh and blood. Antonio Cueto might be a human being, but there wasn't so much as a drop of humanity in his bony body. He was exactly the kind of black-hearted individual every Order member should aspire to model himself-or herself, in Gabriela's case-after. For that reason, the Lord liked Agent Winter, too, but he was going to have a word with the FBI agent about failing to properly dispose of Dario's body.

The two had been spared his wrath for now, but if either man made another mistake, the Lord would think nothing of having him executed. No matter how valuable they were, _e_ _veryone_ working for him was expendable and replaceable.

"I shall take your second offer into consideration-but the Order's priorities at the moment do not include your daughter's marital status," he reprimanded his companion, who appeared appropriately chastened. "Your firstborn son poses a serious threat to us, and he must be dealt with immediately. Also, Gabriela must not become distracted from her mission of bringing back the gods and goddesses. Once these goals have been accomplished, we will revisit the subject-and not a moment sooner. Do I make myself clear?" He thought to himself that the female witch, who had not yet seen him in all his glory, would be flustered by his masculine good looks and therefore unable to concentrate on her work.

"Y-Yes, my Lord," Antonio stammered. He looked like there was something else on his mind, but he wisely kept his mouth shut and swallowed whatever statement he had wished to make. _Good._ The Lord loathed people who rambled-and people in general, for that matter.

The Lord leaned forward, treating the other man to a crystal clear view of his unyielding expression. "It is a rare man who would sacrifice all of his children without expecting anything in return." He tacked the last five words onto the sentence to let Antonio know in no uncertain terms that he was not open to negotiations, and the human bowed his head in acknowledgement. The Cueto family was notorious for accepting bribes and cutting deals, but the Lord was only interested in chaos, mass destruction, and world domination. He switched to Spanish before delivering additional praise. "Your devotion to the cause is admirable."

"Thank you, my Lord." Antonio's verbal gratitude for the praise contradicted both the defeat in his functional eye and the grim set of his mouth, but, again, he failed to elaborate on what he wanted in exchange for handing over his children. The Lord got the impression that he had crushed some secret hope the man had been harboring. Perhaps it involved repopulating the world that was about to be decimated with Aztec Cuetos.

The god blew smoke in his servant's face and made a gesture with his free hand that was intended to dismiss him. But, before Antonio could walk away, the Lord issued a last minute warning in the latter's native tongue. "And Antonio...If you fail me again, you _will_ be joining Dario on the Other Side."


	16. Lost and Found

El Dragon Azteca sat with Elena under an enormous palm tree in Antonio Cueto's front yard and spoke with her while they waited for her daughter to come back out. He was always glad for her company, although he would prefer she was still alive but unable to see and hear him. Elena had been the first person he sought out after his untimely death-not knowing what happened to his good friend had brought him much grief-and it had been a bittersweet moment when they were reunited in spirit form.

When she finally emerged from her father's mansion some time later, Gabriela was wearing a sleeveless, leopard print dress in neutral colors that hit a few inches above the knee and black pumps her mother wouldn't have dared try on, let alone attempted to walk in. Curiously, she was also carrying a foil-covered dinner plate. Since some of her long hair was pulled away from her face, the two ghosts had a clear view of the witch's giddy expression as she shut the front door and marched towards her black sedan waiting in the driveway.

"She looks...excited," a puzzled Elena observed as she rose to a standing position. Dragon Azteca nodded in agreement but stayed put. He guessed that the girl's conniving father must have talked her out of her foul mood after she caught him with that luchadora. Just when he thought the man couldn't sink any lower..."I'm going to follow her and find out what she's up to. I'll be back soon-I hope." Elena disappeared instantly. A second later, she beamed at, and waved to, her friend from the backseat of Gabriela's car as the young woman approached the driver side. El Dragon Azteca raised a hand in a silent goodbye and watched the gate open and Gabriela drive away, tragically oblivious to her mother's spectral presence.

The male apparition wished he could do _something_ to help take away some of their pain. He remembered Gabriela as a sweet, talkative little girl who had always been delighted whenever he visited. He had actually been appointed her godfather until his friendship with Antonio dissolved and the Spaniard revoked that privilege-against his wife's wishes. And Elena was still the same caring and quiet woman Antonio had introduced him to twenty-six years ago, but, as he got to know her better, El Dragon Azteca's feelings toward the brunette had gradually changed from respect to friendship to love. In all his years on Earth, he had never met another woman he connected with on that level, and so he had chosen to focus on mentoring wayward youths instead of seeking a relationship.

He sighed as his heart filled with remorse. Not sharing his feelings with Elena while they were both alive was one of his biggest regrets-second only to failing to rescue her and Gabriela from Antonio. He had long suspected that his former best friend was an abusive husband; sometimes, there was swelling on Elena's face and bruises that not even makeup could conceal. It was nearly impossible to get her alone and ask questions, though. On those rare occasions, she always made vague excuses about "accidents" and swore that Antonio would never, _ever_ hurt her in any way.

Although Elena was no longer married to, or in danger from, that brute, El Dragon Azteca still couldn't bring himself to reveal his true feelings. It seemed pointless to speak up now that their bodies and souls had been separated and Elena's thoughts were consumed with her troubled daughter and the grown-and equally damaged-stepsons she had only just met.

Dragon Azteca smiled to himself as he reflected on his last encounter with his friend's eldest stepson. There was no doubt about it: this Dario Cueto was not the same version he had met during his fateful trip to the Temple. Dying and being resurrected had no doubt helped mold him into the person he was becoming, but the older man believed that meeting Elena had also played a role in Dario's transformation. If her loving presence could bring out the best in someone so vicious and corrupt, then maybe learning her mother was her guardian angel could inspire Gabriela to turn her life around...

He got to his feet when Elena returned via teleportation with an indecipherable expression on her heart-shaped face. "Where did Gabi go?" Elena always called her daughter by her childhood nickname, and, in her presence, Dragon Azteca sometimes found himself doing the same. But Gabriela as an adult was so different from Gabi, the girl in his memories, that was hard to believe they weren't two separate people.

"She's at the Temple visiting Matanza." El Dragon Azteca couldn't ignore the ripple of concern that went through him upon hearing the name. He had taught Black Lotus lucha libre in hopes of impressing on her that avenging her parents would be an impossible task-Dragon Azteca had no desire to either see Elena's stepsons dead or hear that someone else died because of them-and it quickly became evident that the young woman was in over her head. Like Black Lotus, Gabriela was too brave and stubborn for her own good. But Elena's daughter only had magic and a scrappy attitude to defend herself from Matanza should she get too close to him...He noticed that Elena was wringing her hands like she often did when she was experiencing anxiety. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." El Dragon Azteca had lived a life of service to others, and it made him feel useful to know he could still make a difference even though he was dead. And he would _always_ manage to make time for Elena...He honestly didn't think he could refuse anything she asked of him.

"I want to tell Gabi the truth-about what happened to me, her father, everything. Catrina agreed to talk to her for me when we could get her alone...But I don't know if now is a good time. Gabi thinks Dario is dead, and I know she's still angry about what happened earlier..." She trailed off, leaving El Dragon Azteca to assume she was referring to her daughter discovering that Antonio had female companionship that morning. "Is it too soon? What do I even _say_ to her?"

He gently but firmly grasped her upper arms and looked straight into her worried brown eyes. "This can't wait, Elena. Not knowing your fate is destroying her." Dragon Azteca loved Gabriela like she was his own child, and it pained him that she had turned to self-medicating as a coping mechanism. "The sooner she knows the truth, the sooner her father will lose his power over her." It was asking a lot of such a sensitive soul, to inform her of her father's betrayal while she was still processing the news of her mother's death, but Dragon Azteca believed receiving secondhand messages from Elena would give Gabriela the strength she needed to move forward.

"You're right." Since she had buried her face in her hands, Elena's next words were nearly inaudible. "Oh, this is going to break her heart..."

"Antonio is the one who broke her heart-not you. And it will give her some comfort to know that you are watching over her." He gave her biceps a reassuring squeeze before releasing his grip on her and stepping back.

She glanced down as she nodded thoughtfully. "True..." Elena's gaze met his again and she bit her lip. "I also meant to tell you that Dario found a spell to recreate my body. I have a chance to live again!" Her hands flew to her cheeks and her eyes lit up in wonder at the miracles of witchcraft. Dragon Azteca could scarcely believe it himself. Although he did feel joy for her, he knew enough about magic to suspect there must be a catch. Her initial burst of excitement faded just as quickly as his had, and her arms fell as if she no longer had the strength to hold them up. "But then I think about leaving you behind, and I...I can't-"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he interrupted decisively. "Right now, your little girl needs you. Go to her." It would hurt to lose her all over again, but letting the woman he loved go was the right thing to do. He never wanted her to feel like she was under pressure to choose between her family and him.

Elena nodded. "I know, but...I'm going to make a deal with Dario and Catrina. I'll let them bring me back to life only if they agree to bring you back, too." El Dragon Azteca opened his mouth to protest, but Elena raised a hand in the "stop" gesture with a resolute look in her eyes and a serious expression. "Please don't argue with me. My mind is made up." There was a pause. "Oh, and wish me luck."

"Good luck." She smiled, and then she was gone again.

 _She really is a jaguar at heart_ , he thought with a smile of his own that reflected the admiration he felt for her. Like the other Jaguar tribe members he had known, Elena fought for what she believed in. She also thought of others first, whether family, friends, or strangers in need, and it was her selflessness that had guaranteed El Dragon Azteca's own resurrection. Given how much family mattered to Dario, the latter would readily agree to his stepmother's terms. Long ago, Antonio had remarked that his first wife had come to hate her children as much as him, so it was no surprise that Dario had bonded with Elena from the start. She was already more of a mother to him than his biological mother could ever be.

 _As soon as we're both alive again, I'm going to tell Elena how I really feel about her,_ vowed Dragon Azteca. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice, because what if something happened that would cause him to miss out on his own second chance? While there was always the possibility of rejection, knowing Elena, he was sure she would insist on remaining friends even if she couldn't reciprocate his feelings. Some of the things she said and did, however, made him believe there was hope they could be _more_ than friends someday-especially since both of them would be alive and well again in the near future.

But he couldn't think of anyone more deserving of a long, happy life than Elena, and, if necessary, he was willing to sacrifice his own dreams to make that happen.

* * *

"What's that smirk for?" Dario asked Catrina as he looked up from the spell he was studying, having felt her eyes on him. Without access to the Internet or his own family's spell books, his only resources beside her limited selection of magic books were the few spells he had copied by hand earlier. The one he was currently poring over was designed to keep ghosts at a distance. He found himself wishing he could take a crash course in witchcraft.

She continued to stare at him from the other end of the sofa without blinking. It was slightly creepy. "Your stepmother is under the impression that we are friends. I find the idea rather amusing."

Dario smirked, too, and reached for the plastic cup with a serving of whiskey that he had left on thr coffee table. He raised it as if to toast to the possibility of friendship. "Well, as the old saying goes, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.'" As he lifted the cup to his lips, he decided to change his drinking habits once Gabriela was in the picture. She didn't need the added temptation of watching her big brother imbibe right in front of her.

Catrina's bemused mood took a sobering turn. "Yes, but being my friend would also make you an enemy of Mil Muertes-and Jeremiah Crane." Dario gulped his swallow of whiskey _hard_ -Catrina's reminder had come at a most inopportune time-and set his drink on the coffee table with a thump so he could rub his sore throat. "You saw what Mil did to Fenix and what Mil and Jeremiah did to each other at Ultima Lucha Tres. What do you think they would do to _you_ if they learned we were 'friends'?"

The man shivered. "Personally, I'd rather _not_ think about that." Mil Muertes had already flung him around like a rag doll on more than one occasion, and that was just over interfering in his matches against Matanza. "But you can't keep our alliance a secret forever," he added sensibly.

"I know." Catrina's expression was ominous. "Still, I wonder..." In a single, swift, effortless movement, she seemed to glide rather than scoot across the sofa like a normal person. Having closed the gap between them, she then slowly ran the back of her curled index finger down the side of Dario's face. His breath caught in his throat at the heat generated beneath her cool touch. She still had the ability to make his pulse race and his heartbeat echo in his ears, but he couldn't deny that his current reaction to her invading his personal space was inspired by lust as opposed to fear. It was a rather disconcerting change in his behavior-not to mention his feelings-toward her. Catrina's hazel eyes searched his black-brown irises curiously. "I am not _that_ close to either Mil or Jeremiah...Perhaps it would be worth the risk-for both of us."

Dario could scarcely breathe with the gorgeous-and dangerous-woman so close to him. "For you, maybe." To his embarrassment, his voice came out sounding rather hoarse, and he attempted to divert his imagination by thinking of anything but Catrina-and her lush lips, and the gothic sensuality dripping off of her goddess-like figure..."You're practically immortal already." Maybe someday he could figure out how to use his magic to create a version of the Piedra Immortal amulet for himself...

"And so are you, as long as I have _this_." She slid her finger down his face and pointed at her stone, which was keeping his bull company on the center of the coffee table.

"You seem to spend a lot of time alone. Do you ever get lonely, Catrina?" he mused. Every now and then, he glimpsed a bit of humanity in the woman, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds on an overcast day. He kind of wanted to see more of that repressed side of her.

"Doesn't everyone at times?" she demurred, before giving him a direct answer. "I used to-but I have not felt that way once since you moved in. Are _you_ lonely, Dario?"

"Not anymore. You are surprisingly good company," he acknowledged, which inspired a rare smile from the dark mistress. He was also glad that Gabriela had been tasked with caring for Matanza, and that Elena had El Dragon Azteca for companionship. Being alone too much wasn't good for anyone.

"As are you." She returned to her end of the sofa, and Dario resumed reading over the spells taken from his father's book, but the latter was still distracted and found concentrating difficult. He was grateful when Elena catapulted into the living room some time later. She had gone back to Antonio's property to wait and see if Gabriela was going to venture outside again.

"I-I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she began, looking flustered.

"No, not at all," her stepson assured her. _You have impeccable timing, Elena._

"Gabi is with Matanza at the Temple right now," she blurted out, throwing a meaningful look at Catrina, who stood without being asked. "This is our first chance to talk to her alone."

The undead woman nodded. "Then we shall go right away."

Dario tossed aside the papers, leaped to his feet, and impulsively reached out and grabbed Catrina's wrist before she could teleport. "Please...Take me with you," he begged while she glanced down at his hand before meeting his needy gaze with a mildly frustrated countenance. His eyes darted from her face, to his stepmother's, and back again in hopes that one or both would reconsider leaving without him. "I _have_ to meet my sister-"

"Not yet." Catrina gingerly untangled herself from his grip and backed away. "It is in your best interests-and hers," she added with conviction.

"She's right," agreed a guilty-looking Elena. "Remember, your sister is still loyal to Antonio and his cult." Her chilly, faded hand rested over her stepson's for a second to let him know that she understood his frustration. "It's my job as a mother to protect my children-and, for now, that means keeping your survival a secret from Gabi."

Dario nodded as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Elena's heart was in the right place, and Catrina's reasons for denying him were based on cold, hard logic. He couldn't argue with either even if it _was_ killing him inside.

"We will be back soon," Catrina promised, then promptly vanished. Elena gave Dario an apologetic look before she, too, disappeared.

Although Dario was physically exhausted and in need of sleep, he was too wired to do anything but pace the living room while he awaited an update. Come to think of it, attempting to get some shut eye without Catrina around to protect him from the dead would be a stupid idea, anyway.

Knowing that his baby sister had to deal the news of her beloved mother's death-her beloved mother's _murder_ -all alone was eating away at Dario. To hell with the potential consequences! He was her big brother, damn it, and he should be there for Gabriela to lend emotional support and involve her in his plan to make Elena whole again. But she neither knew nor trusted him, and, even if Antonio never found out about Dario's deal with Catrina, it would be unfair to spring his miraculous resurrection on Gabriela while she was still in shock.

 _Baby steps,_ he reminded himself following a deep, calming breath. _One thing at a time._

He wondered how much Catrina was going to tell her during their first meeting, and he hoped the body recreation spell was one of the topics she intended to cover. Otherwise, the grief-stricken girl might overdose, commit suicide, or-most likely-get into a violent confrontation with Antonio afterward. Not even Catrina's vow to resurrect Gabriela or the latter's value to the Order would spare her additional suffering...

One of the tears that suddenly blurred Dario's line of sight escaped to zigzag down his cheek. He blotted it impatiently with his thumb and sniffled to ward off the rest. El Dragon Azteca was right that family meant everything to him. Hell, the only reason Dragon Azteca had died was because Dario was trying to protect his brother.

He thought back to how the man-well, his ghost, technically-had fondly spoken of Elena, and he was sickened to realize his actions that night two years ago might have destroyed his stepmother's best chance at the "happily ever after" ending she had been denied by Antonio. Maybe Dario could do something to remedy that after Elena was made whole again...Between Elena treating her stepsons like her own children and her depressing circumstances, he felt he owed it to her.

It would not be so easy to earn Gabriela's trust, but, once she realized their father had lied about her mother's fate, she would be more inclined to believe he had lied about Dario, too. From the sound of things, she was already bonding with Matanza, and he posed a bigger threat to her than Dario ever would...Perhaps Elena could have a talk with her daughter and convince her to give him a chance. He was desperate to prove to Gabriela that he would love and care for her as much as he did their brother-minus the key and the cell, of course.

In the meantime, the spirits around him hadn't let up with their whispering, although Dario found that he was gradually becoming acclimated to their presence inside his head. One day, he believed, they would be reduced to background noise he could ignore, like a television set or radio on low volume. But today was not that day. He knew that fleeing to Catrina's balcony would not allow him to escape his dead tormentors, but the tiny apartment suddenly felt claustrophobic and he found himself craving fresh air.

Once there, he eased the door shut and slid down the outer wall of the apartment building into a sitting position so that the concrete barricade would hide him from the neighbors-not that there were many people out and about at this hour. The majority would be at work or in school right now; the rest, likely busy with chores and errands. More importantly, no one from the Order would be able to spot him from where he was seated...It might be his paranoia talking, but he wouldn't put it past the cult's followers to comb Boyle Heights and the surrounding vicinity for signs of Dario. Especially once word got out that there were blood stains in his office and bullet holes in his chair, but no body to be found...

 _The Order._ It had been awhile since he'd had an Order-related conversation with Catrina that didn't revolve around his father, sister, or both. He had been so caught up in Cueto drama that he had neglected to feed her additional damning insider information on the cult-and had failed to warn her that two other gods had already taken human form. That was the kind of juicy tidbit that would earn both of them points with her police captain mother.

It was a conversation they needed to have after he found out how his sister had taken the news of Elena's untimely demise.

Right now, however, he was content to feel the sunshine on his face and the air warm his skin. The change of scenery was already doing him good. He had always spent more time indoors than was healthy.

Two of the voices-one male, one female-in particular caught his ear. They sounded old and cranky, and they spoke in Spanish with a dialect from the Madrid area. Dario recognized their accents at once because he had grown up in and around the city, although he could not place the individual voices. He wished they would let him see as well as hear them, but no such luck.

"I hope he's finally given up trying to learn magic," the male ghost sneered. "The stupid boy is wasting his time."

"His father was right to take away his powers," the female spirit muttered. "He never would have amounted to much, anyway."

"It's the only good thing Antonio ever did in his otherwise worthless life," concurred her male companion.

The two continued to speak as if they were still alive and Dario was the ghost whose presence they were unaware of. All the while, he was reeling from the bombshell the dead woman had just dropped on him. Therefore, he only overheard snatches of their conversation after that: "'Girl has potential'...'Tainted our bloodline...Mere humans'...'Worse yet-a _Mexican_!'...'Only half-witches'...'Should have let us raise his brats'..."I would have beaten discipline and respect into all three'..."

Dario cradled his aching head in his hands while the hot sun continued to penetrate his black clothing and sweat started to trickle down his neck. He had pieced together enough clues from their dialogue to identify the speakers as his paternal grandparents, whom he never had the "privilege" of meeting but had seen in a photo album long ago. He had heard enough childhood horror stories from Antonio to know that they were at least partly responsible for his warped views on both family and life in general. Today's lively discussion confirmed that they were toxic human beings who had transitioned into malicious, gossiping spirits. But it was his grandmother's first sentence that stuck with him long after both had fallen silent and the other souls hanging around resumed harassing and threatening him.

 _His father was right to take away his powers._

If that was the truth-and, given his series of failed experiments, he believed it was-then Dario's father had purposely left him defenseless and dragged him into a cold, cruel world filled with people who wanted him dead. But why would he do such a thing? And what had he done with the magic? And when did it even _happen_ , anyway?

He took the oversized key in his hand and examined it with a creased brow, recalling Antonio's statement that the artifact was "filled with powerful magic." But he had never revealed the _source_ of said magic...The heated metal object resting on his open palm was still soothing to Dario-and, upon remembering how it had first entered his life-he was startled to realize it might also provide the answers to some of his questions.

* * *

Catrina felt a trifle guilty for depriving Dario of a chance to finally meet the half-sister he'd never known, but, once he started thinking with his head and not his heart, he would agree with her that waiting was for the best.

Elena watched her daughter-who was standing uncomfortably close to Matanza's cell-from several feet away and with two fingers pressed to her petal pink lips. Catrina, who stood to her right, tried to get closer to the young woman. When she took a step forward, she could feel the external magic that surrounded Gabriela pushing back against her like an invisible pair of strong hands. It would seem that the witch was being protected from the undead as well as the dead.

Their arrival caused the naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling to dim, then brighten again, not to mention inspired Matanza's already heavy breathing to become even more labored. Dario really ought to inform him that female "friends" and especially family members were not to be lusted over...The combination of lighting issues and Matanza's behavior captured Gabriela's attention. She glanced upward with a puzzled frown, then back at her agitated brother, before finally turning around. Upon seeing Catrina, she briefly covered her mouth to stifle a cry of surprise.

Seeing Gabriela in the flesh brought out mixed emotions in Catrina. She could not forget that the youngest Cueto's magic was responsible for making the Order's dream of resurrecting the gods and goddesses in human form a reality. Anger throbbed at her temples. Because of this girl, she was at risk of losing what remained of the woman she had once been. And then there was Gabriela's alarming obsession with being consumed by a goddess and receiving unlimited power in exchange...That was the last thing any of them needed.

A sideways glance at Elena allowed Catrina to see the witch in a different, and more objective, light. The tormented ghost was staring at her daughter intently, with equal amounts of unconditional love for her child and anguish over what she was about to do to her expressed on her features. Once she stopped thinking of Gabriela as "the Order's witch," Catrina was able to remember that she, Dario, and Matanza had been the victims of years of brainwashing and exploitation by their sadistic father.

Catrina hadn't known what to expect. She had pictured Gabriela as a composite of Elena and Dario, and that was a fairly accurate assessment, but now she understood why Elena had described her daughter as "much more of a rebel" than she was. Her style was more dramatic than dark, but Catrina suspected that-like her-Gabriela could effortlessly command the attention of everyone in a room. There was also a fire burning in her dark brown eyes that was proof the youngest member of the Cueto family was as temperamental as she was dangerous.

"Not again," she muttered with a contemptuous shake of the head before raising her voice. "The Temple is _closed_." Gabriela made her declaration in an accent strongly reminiscent of her mother's, but her voice carried a ring of authority that would have made Dario proud. Catrina might have been in charge of the Temple at one time, but, in Gabriela's eyes, this was Cueto territory-and Catrina was trespassing. "Go find somewhere else to haunt, you ghostly succubus, or I'll _make_ you leave." She scowled and made a shooing motion with her hands, and Catrina was impressed by her utter lack of fear or even discomfort. The human woman had just acted like she was nothing more than a pesky insect buzzing around her face on a summer day. Few individuals were so brazen as to display an openly disrespectful attitude towards her.

"I'm sorry," a visibly embarrassed Elena apologized from beside her. "Gabi can be rather... _blunt_ sometimes."

Catrina let the girl's rudeness slide because she had committed sins far more offensive-not that she intended to tell Elena that. Elena gave off a motherly vibe that made her feel like she should be on her best behavior. "I am not here to haunt you, Gabriela." The latter gasped at being referred to by name, but recovered her composure soon after. Catrina looked at Matanza with a smirk before focusing on his half-sister again. "Or your brother."

Gabriela's eyes-so very much like Dario's-widened ever so slightly, and she tilted her head with intrigue as she crossed her arms over her chest. "How did you know about...us?"

"Your mother told me. I've been in contact with her." Catrina's gaze momentarily strayed to the young woman's necklace. What had at first glance appeared to be an ordinary heart-shaped pendant now pulsed with a faint golden glow, indicating that it was actually an amulet. That must be the source of the magic that repelled ghosts and the undead. If she could persuade Gabriela to remove the amulet before her next attempt to contact Elena, the witch would understand why her previous efforts had been doomed to failure.

"My _mother_?" Gabriela's voice dropped to a whisper. "I...I don't understand..." But the way Catrina's words had made the blood drain from her face implied that she understood perfectly. Like Dario, his sister attempted to put on an impassive front for the enemy, only to give away her true feelings through a flicker in her eyes and the taut set of her mouth. It was fascinating to observe the similarities between two half-siblings who had never met. She had to remind herself that the two were also very different individuals, and the already unstable Gabriela would be shattered once she finally learned the truth, so Catrina knew that she must choose her words with care. It would be easier to do if being sensitive to others' feelings came naturally to her, but she was willing to make an effort for the greater good.

"I'm so sorry, Gabi..." a teary-eyed Elena whispered back. The ghost looked as mortified as if she had just lost patience with her daughter and slapped her across the face. But, in Catrina's opinion, the dead woman had done nothing wrong and had no reason to be bothered by her conscience. Her former husband was the one who destroyed everyone who had the misfortune of crossing paths with him.

Catrina reluctantly continued with the depressing task she had agreed to. "She is here in spirit, and she asked me to speak to you on her behalf." The timing wasn't ideal, but, the longer they waited to reveal the truth, the more risks posed to everyone-Gabriela included.

While Gabriela absorbed that shocking revelation, Catrina arrived at the conclusion that the other woman was no angel, but she certainly wasn't heartless, either. She was just a tortured soul who both desperately missed her mother and wanted to please her father. How much she actually believed in the Order's mission was up for debate.

The undead woman was surprised to realize that she could relate to the young magic user somewhat, for she was also stuck between two very different worlds. But, while Gabriela might be a lost, lonely child at heart, she also had a dark side and supernatural powers of her own. Catrina wasn't about to take someone with her resume lightly.

Although she had a few ideas about how Gabriela might react to the confirmation of her mother's passing, her actual response was not one of the scenarios Catrina had envisioned...


	17. Painful Truths

_"Your mother is here in spirit."_

Gabriela knew at once what Catrina meant by that, but she was so accustomed to pushing away negative thoughts about her mother's fate that she simply refused to accept what she was being told. Catrina was either mistaken or a liar. The witch wanted so badly to believe she was still alive that she had, for the most part, brainwashed herself into accepting her accident-related amnesia theory as the truth. After all, Mama's car had disappeared that day, too, and had never been accounted for. And the doubts that crept up on Gabriela from time to time were quickly silenced when every attempt to contact the dead failed. Her mom simply _couldn't_ be dead.

She narrowed her eyes at the older woman as she recalled her animosity towards her half-brothers and Dario in particular. Since she had known Gabriela's first name and how she was connected to the Cuetos, it made sense that she would turn her hatred against the surviving family members now that Dario was deceased. Assuming she knew about Dario's murder, which she probably did, because death was Catrina's thing...

The moment Gabriela realized that _freak_ had gotten inside her head was the moment she lost what was left of her composure. Nearly falling prey to this woman's sick mind games so soon after Dario's shooting and catching Mariposa with her arms around Papa was more than she could bear. She could feel her chest and the muscles in her throat vibrate from the deep growl as it worked its way upward. It was the inhuman snarl of a big cat, and, according to her father, a subconscious way members of the Jaguar tribe expressed anger or frustration. For a split second, Catrina looked taken aback, and knowing that she had perturbed the High Priestess of Hades gave the youngest Cueto a tiny bit of satisfaction.

"She isn't dead, you _lying bitch_!" she exploded at the undead woman, who stood perfectly still, as if she had decided to wait out the temper tantrum before speaking again. Gabriela could hear Matanza shuffling around behind her, and, although she felt guilty for causing him distress, she never was good at controlling her temper. "I know you despise my brothers, but I've done nothing to you, and...To try and hurt me just because I'm a Cueto by making up vicious rumors about my family is low even for _you_. I ought to..." Her rant came to an end so she could suck in a breath and ponder what kind of a threat to issue against her unconventional enemy.

Catrina, to her credit as an actress, appeared to have pity for her. "I am being honest with you, Gabriela, and I will prove it by revealing information only your mother would know." She glanced to her left like she was looking at someone only she could see, then back at an agitated Gabriela, who couldn't see anyone else. "Elena says she is happy that you kept her violin, even though you have never learned how to play it. She is also pleased that you chose to frame and display her artwork on your bedroom walls. Need I go on?"

A shaken Gabriela backed away until she bumped against the bars of Matanza's cell. She was vaguely aware of her brother playing with her hair-alternately sniffing it and separating individual sections to run his rough fingers up and down her locks-but she was in a state of shock and frozen to the spot. That was all the confirmation she needed. While it was possible that Catrina had heard Mama's first name somewhere and used teleportation to enter Gabriela's home, how could she know anything about the violin or who had created those unsigned paintings and drawings? Unless...

Unless Elena had actually shared that information with her from beyond the grave.

Her daughter was speechless. Tears pricked her eyes and she swallowed hard, feeling a lump forming in her throat. Since her Cueto pride wouldn't allow her to break down in front of an outsider, and she also wished to avoid upsetting Matanza further, she staggered out of the room in search of a private place to grieve. Gabriela almost stumbled down the stairs in her pumps, then wrenched open the door leading to the lower half of the Temple. Her knees promptly buckled, and she collapsed just outside of the doorway.

She knelt on the sticky, filthy floor of the Temple, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed uncontrollably in the darkened building, oblivious to everything except the excruciating pain of her loss. Although Gabriela had many years to come to terms with the possibility that her mother was dead, learning that her worst fear had come true was infinitely more painful than she could have ever imagined.

But Mama-her ghost, anyway-had never truly left her, and knowing this made Gabriela go hot with shame. She was positive that her mother had witnessed at least some of the countless vile things she'd done and overheard conversations in which she had expressed her dark thoughts and feelings.

 _She must be so disappointed in me,_ she thought as the tears streamed down her face. But, if Elena was still watching over her, that meant she had never stopped loving her daughter, and-hopefully-didn't hold her many sins against her. Still, Gabriela's actions must have caused her mother a _lot_ of unnecessary grief and worry...

"I'm sorry I let you down, Mama," she whispered to the air, not knowing if she was around to hear the heartfelt, if inadequate, apology, but needing to get it off her chest regardless. She stopped short of promising to be a better person in the future, because how could she play both sides as a servant of the Aztec gods and goddesses? Besides, no amount of good deeds could atone for helping to unleash hell on earth. "I love you."

Gabriela waited until her tear ducts finally dried out before she reached into her purse, withdrew the remaining tissues from the travel-sized packet she always carried on her, and used half of them to hastily blot her face. Thanks to waterproof cosmetics, her cat eye makeup remained intact, but she knew her face was red and puffy. She used the rest of the tissues to blow her nose before stuffing all of them back in the packet to dispose of later, then cleansed her hands with a dollop of citrus-scented hand sanitizer. She had to get a grip on her emotions before returning to Papa's place.

Her heart nearly stopped at the thought of telling her father. How could she do that to him while he was still coming to terms with the loss of his oldest child? She didn't even have the whole story yet-Light flooded the ground floor of the Temple and Catrina stood before her, startling Gabriela into a standing position. The sudden movement, combined with the headache she had developed from crying, made the latter dizzy. She braced her right hand against the wall next to the staircase to ensure she remained upright.

"Your mother wanted me to check on you," Catrina informed her. If she had been anyone else, Gabriela would have sworn she detected a hint of sympathy in the older woman's tone and in her dark eyes. "She loves you very much and never wanted to hurt you, but she feels you deserve the truth. And I will tell you everything"-Gabriela's breath caught in her throat-"in exchange for-"

"Deal," the witch interrupted.

"But I have not yet told you what I want from you." Catrina hardly seemed surprised that Gabriela had agreed to her unspoken terms without hesitation. Maybe Elena had told her about her daughter's impetuous nature.

"It doesn't matter. I would do _anything_ to find out what happened to her." Even selling her soul to Catrina, if that's what it took...This was the moment she had been waiting for ever since the fateful day when Papa had picked her up at school and informed her that he didn't know where her mother was, yet part of her dreaded receiving the answers she sought. And, although she _was_ curious about Catrina's motives, she was far more interested in Elena's fate.

Catrina's red lips curved slightly, but her smile lacked malice for once. "Then it seems we have a deal."

"How did she...die?" Gabriela's voice faded to a near whisper on the last word.

"Before I answer your question, there are a few things you should know. First of all, your mother's death was quick, and she did not suffer for long." That didn't exactly give Gabriela much comfort. "It is also possible to bring her to life again-with the help of a witch such as yourself."

"Or you could just use your stone," suggested Gabriela once she regained the ability to speak. Although her pulse raced at the idea, her initial enthusiasm was dampened by her past failures. How was she supposed to resurrect her mother when she couldn't even conjure her spirit? She had also tried to reach out to El Dragon Azteca without success, and her hopes of speaking with Dario's ghost seemed equally foolish. It appeared that the only dead "people" she could get in touch with were Aztec deities trapped on the Other Side.

"Unfortunately, there is nothing left of Elena's physical form, and my stone is incapable of either transferring souls into new bodies or creating a clone of the original to serve as a vessel. _You_ , however, can use magic to do both."

Gabriela's head swam, first with horror at the idea of her beloved mother's body disintegrating, then renewed hope at the possibilities Catrina's words had just opened up. She tried to push down the excitement filling her whole being, because, time after time, getting her hopes up had only to led to heartbreaking disappointment.

"I would _love_ to get Mama back, but I'm not sure I can do what you're asking. I-I haven't even been able to make contact with her," she confessed, flushed with embarrassment at her incompetence. Then again, neither had her father, and he'd been practicing magic for _decades_.

"That is why she asked for my help." Catrina's gaze left Gabriela's face and settled temporarily on the heart-shaped amulet the latter never took off. "I believe that amulet is the only thing standing between you and your mother."

Gabriela shook her head vehemently as she rubbed the hot gold piece between her fingertips. "You're wrong. It's supposed to keep evil spirits away-not good ones." She knew the amulet was doing its job because Catrina hadn't once invaded the witch's personal space like she did with everyone else-especially Dario-and, whatever she was, Catrina had more in common with ghosts than humans. But she didn't seem so evil at the moment...

"Are you sure about that?"

She nodded, confident that her papa would never, _ever_ do anything with the potential to keep his second wife and their only child apart. Also, how could her amulet be the culprit when he struggled with the same dilemma? The amulet had been specifically charmed to protect Gabriela from the long list of Antonio's dead enemies.

Although she believed her father's explanation wholeheartedly, hearing Catrina question the jewelry's purpose had made her irritable. "Tell me what happened to my mother."

There was a long pause before she received an answer. "She was murdered-"

"Murdered?" Gabriela interrupted in a shriek that went up several octaves. It was an even bigger punch to the gut than being told Elena was dead. She clenched her fists, overcome with every negative emotion imaginable. " _Murdered_? No way. I can't think of _anyone_ who would want her dead..." She wouldn't allow herself to dwell on potential causes of death or what her mom might have been thinking and feeling during her last moments alive. All she could think about was first avenging, then resurrecting her. "Does she know who did it? A name, or a description?"

Catrina opened her mouth to respond when Gabriela heard a noise and glanced past her. The women watched as Joey Ryan crept through the entrance favored by Johnny Mundo and the Worldwide Underground. He stopped in his tracks when he realized he wasn't alone and pushed the black sunglasses he had been wearing on top of his head.

"Oh, _shit_ ," he mumbled at the exact instant Gabriela's heart started to pound. Everyone knew Joey was a cop after the 5-0 Street Fight-a corrupt cop who had given Dario some useful information. But he didn't know Gabriela was related to Dario, and soon he had his badge in his left hand, and his gun in his right, and the weapon pointed at the women. The witch was too astonished to contemplate how she could use her magic to escape.

For a long moment, no one reacted, but Joey was the first to recover from the shock and take action. "Police! Freeze!" he shouted in a muffled voice around the lollipop sticking out of his mouth. Gabriela couldn't help but think Dario must have felt equally stunned and terrified just before he was shot. "This is a crime scene, ladies," the officer drawled, "and you're trespassing. You know, I could take you both into custody for questioning... Well, maybe not the ghost." The last line was obviously directed at Catrina. He trailed off when he got a better look at Gabriela's wet face and mottled complexion, then holstered his weapon, slipped his badge into his pocket, and slowly approached. "Is she"-Joey jerked his head in Catrina's direction-"bothering you, miss?"

She silently shook her head while Catrina answered for her. "We were just having a conversation before we were so rudely interrupted," the lady in black explained with an edge to her voice. The lights above dimmed temporarily, as if reflecting her annoyance.

The cop gave Catrina a wide berth and an unnerved look as he strolled past her, then stopped about two feet in front of Gabriela. "Rough day, huh?" Joey pulled the red lollipop from between his lips and thrust it at her with a nauseating smirk. "You probably need this more than I do...What's your name, sweetheart?" He sighed when she refused to open up to him and raised his hands exactly like PJ had-as if he were under arrest. "I just wanna talk, all right? Maybe I can help you."

Gabriela had no intention of answering any of his questions. Being so close to Joey Ryan made her skin crawl and brought back unpleasant memories of a certain councilman who couldn't keep his hands to himself. She had no idea why Joey was visiting the closed Temple in the middle of the day, but she didn't have enough cash on hand to bribe him into silence, and he seemed too intrigued by her to leave any time soon. He was also giving her that puzzled look she'd received a million times before-the look that said he was trying to place her familiar features-as he unbuttoned two more buttons on his obnoxiously bright pink shirt in a failed attempt to act seductive.

There was only one obvious solution, and it didn't involve waiting for Catrina to intervene.

The witch took a step forward and reached out with a shy smile as if she had decided to accept the candy, which transformed Joey's look of dismay into a sleazy grin, only to slap her palm against his forehead instead and cast a modified version of the amnesia curse she had used on PJ Black. Gabriela simply omitted the line about forgetting her words since she hadn't yet spoken to him.

"Forget my appearance...Forget my voice...Forget we ever met," she commanded in Spanish. The second she fell silent and withdrew her hand, Joey clutched his head and cried out in pain. Finally, his bright blue eyes rolled back and he crashed to the floor. It was gratifying to watch his eyelids flutter shut. She glanced at Catrina, who was eyeing the unconscious man with a smirk. "Can we continue this conversation another time? He won't be out for long...I'm coming back tonight between six and seven to feed Matanza," she added helpfully.

"We will meet you then," Catrina vowed, all business again. "Oh, and Gabriela? Do _not_ repeat anything I told you to your father. Your mother says there is no point in upsetting him when she will be returning soon."

"I won't say a word," Gabriela promised as she reapplied the hand sanitizer. Now that she was able to focus on something besides her own pain, she noticed that the ghostly woman looked tired, or perhaps ill, but the spell would wear off in a little while and there wasn't time to wonder what was going on with her. She forced herself to thank Catrina for the valuable information she had provided, then stepped over Joey and briskly walked away. The young woman stopped once by the exit to slip on the invisibility bracelet before leaving the Temple.

Her car was parked down the block by a gas station, and the walk there seemed to take forever in four inch heels. Landmarks, vehicles, and people blurred before her watery eyes. She was glad she had made herself invisible so that no one would realize she'd been crying and try to comfort her.

From the safety of her locked sedan, an aching Gabriela felt around the inside of her purse for a travel-sized aspirin bottle, then popped two pills onto her tongue and washed them down with the last of the lukewarm bottled water that had been left in the car overnight. As she deposited the medicine and her magical bracelet into her bag, her fingertips made contact with paper. She withdrew the receipt from the coffee shop and stared at PJ Black's cellphone number for several seconds before grabbing her own phone.

Gabriela was once again left alone to cope with her grief, fears, and insecurities, and she was already getting overwhelmed by her inner turmoil. The tears she'd been holding back while walking to her car now flowed freely. Her chest also felt uncomfortably tight, and her breath came out in harsh wheezes. To avert a panic attack, she concentrated on convincing herself that, one way or another, she would get her mother back. Because of the warning Mama had issued through Catrina, Gabriela knew she couldn't share her burdens with her father, let alone her non-magical family back in Mexico. And she sure as hell didn't trust anyone in the Order with her secrets. But PJ was a neutral third party, and talking to him earlier _had_ made her feel good _and_ forget her troubles for awhile...

Calling him suddenly seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

PJ was stretched out on his couch, eyes glued to the ceiling while he daydreamed about the pretty witch he had encountered earlier, when his cellphone rang. He rolled over onto his side and lunged for the device that was resting on the coffee table.

 _Please be her,_ he prayed inside his head as he took note of the unfamiliar number. _Please be her..._ He answered just after the second ring.

"Hello?" PJ felt as nervous as a teenage boy about to ask his crush to a school dance. It struck him as funny that a beautiful woman could provoke anxiety in him, yet he was fearless when it came to taking extreme physical risks.

"Hi...This is Gabriela. You know, from the coffee shop?"

"Yeah, I remember you." PJ sat up straight. Concern had immediately replaced his nerves when he realized that Gabriela sounded like she was distraught over something and had been crying recently. "Hey, what's wrong? You sound upset."

She made a sniffling noise. "I am. I, um, just got some bad news, and I-I didn't know who else to turn to..."

"About Dario?" PJ blurted out, then immediately slapped himself on the forehead and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. God, he was _such_ an idiot! Because Gabriela had stolen his memories of their initial meeting, he shouldn't have been aware of a connection between his employer and her, and he probably shouldn't have let on that he knew of Dario's absence, either.

He could hear distant traffic sounds in the background, and it dawned on him that Gabriela might not have gone home yet and received word of Dario's disappearance. In movies and on TV shows, the police always visited the victim's family at home to inform them of the crime. What if the "bad news" she had received was unrelated to Dario and he had just dropped a bombshell on the poor woman?

There was a pause, then, "Why would you say that?"

PJ didn't blame her for being suspicious. "I, uh, saw your last name on your driver license when I picked it up," he confessed. He overheard Gabriela swear under her breath. "And"-PJ took a gamble-"news of Dario's disappearance is all over the Internet." He deliberately avoided mentioning the shooting. "So, I'm guessing you're related to him and Matanza somehow?" The werewolf kept his tone neutral and conversational. The last thing he wanted was to make Gabriela feel like she was being judged and scare her off.

"They're my half-brothers from our father's first marriage," she finally declared. _Half-brothers_. That explained her strong resemblance to Dario and her blazing, Matanza-like stare, as well as why she was supposedly from Mexico instead of Spain. "And, yes, I'm upset about what happened to Dario-among other things." Another, longer pause followed. "I understand if you want nothing more to do with me-"

"Why? Because of your family's reputation?" The palpable resignation in her voice wounded PJ. He guessed that Gabriela was used to people reacting negatively once they learned of her relationship to the shady Dario and the violent Matanza. But PJ liked her enough as an individual to take a chance on her, and he hoped she would give him a chance, too-in spite of his own bad reputation and association with the Worldwide Underground.

The witch sniffled again. "Yes."

"I'm not worried about that; I'm worried about _you_ ," the werewolf insisted without giving the matter a second thought. None of the other disturbing things he had learned about Gabriela so far had scared him off, so why should her surname or her intimidating older brothers? He overheard her exhale into the phone, presumably with relief. "And I'm sorry to hear about your brother. He was- _is_ -a good boss to me." _For the most part, anyway..._ "Um...Do you wanna talk about it?" Although he knew nothing about the kind of relationship Gabriela and Dario had, in his personal experience, losing a family member to violence was especially traumatic.

She sighed. "I don't know...I hate to burden you with my problems...I'm sorry if I've wasted your time-"

"I'm glad you called. Really. Listen...I know it's not the same thing, but I lost my dad, so I can kind of relate to what you're going through. If you need someone to talk to-about anything-feel free to call or text me anytime. I mean it. I'm a surprisingly good listener, and I promise I won't judge you." It was a skill honed from many hours of being subjected to Johnny and Jack bragging about themselves and Taya and Ricky gushing over Johnny. Not that he or anyone else paid much attention to Ricky.

"I believe you. Thanks, PJ-and I'm sorry about your dad. "

"Me, too." He stared at the silver-framed photograph of his father that adorned the center of the coffee table. It had been taken shortly before he died. _I think Dad would have liked Gabriela...Although he wouldn't have been happy about that spell she put on me..._

"I lost a parent, too," she confessed after the silence between them lingered a little too long for PJ's liking. "My mom." Her voice suddenly cracked with despair. "She disappeared when I was five, and I never saw her again."

His heart went out to her. "I'm so sorry, Gabriella." PJ cringed when he realized belatedly that he had mispronounced her name, but Gabriela either didn't notice or was too upset to bother correcting him. He couldn't imagine having to face the nightmare of a second missing family member while not knowing what had become of the first to vanish. But PJ knew that Dario had been resurrected by Catrina, and he wrestled with the dilemma of whether or not to share what he had learned with the man's half-sister. Suppose Dario was on the run from his killer and didn't _want_ to be found...The Darewolf was afraid that Gabriela might put herself in danger by tracking down her missing sibling. And besides, if he told her things he couldn't have known otherwise, she would realize he had been snooping around the Temple and probably question his intentions toward her.

For now, he held his tongue, having decided that consoling Gabriela and gaining her trust should be his top priorities at the moment. He hoped she was starting to realize that there was more to him-a lot more-than being a high-flying, adrenaline-addicted bad boy.

"I guess what happened to Dario is just bringing up a lot of things for me," she continued.

"Were you two close?" Gabriela might resemble Dario in many ways, but her personality was so different from his that it was hard to picture them getting along. Yet, despite being a ruthless businessman, Dario's affection for Matanza seemed sincere, so maybe he was close with their sister, too.

"No. I never met him, and he didn't-doesn't-know I exist. I didn't even meet Matanza until after Dario went missing. Papa insisted on caring for him alone the last time Dario was...gone." That was most likely a reference to him being arrested for murder. It was common knowledge among his employees, as was the fact that all charges had been dropped.

Although PJ had grave doubts about the man's innocence, he didn't believe for one second that his sister would kill anyone except in self-defense or to protect a loved one. And he definitely felt that she had nothing to do with her own brother's execution. Her tone indicated regret that they had never known each other.

"But they're your _brothers_." PJ couldn't imagine not knowing-not even _suspecting_ -he had another sibling or siblings. As an only child, he would be thrilled to discover he had at least one half-sibling and eager to get to know them. He was so surprised by this revelation that he almost overlooked the clue hidden in Gabriela's last statement: she had recently spent time at the Temple bonding with her other half-brother. She would have to return sometime if she wanted to see him again.

"It's a long and complicated story involving age differences, me being half Mexican, and our overprotective father. And speaking of my father...I have to go. I'm staying with him for awhile, and he'll be expecting me home soon."

"All right." PJ was disappointed that Gabriela had to cut the conversation short. He wanted to meet with her in person and lend a shoulder to cry on, or, if she preferred, distract her from her grief with stories about his own life. But he didn't think she was ready to meet up again so soon, so all he said in response was, "Just remember: I'm here if you need anything." Knowing what he did about her, he considered it a miracle that she had reached out to him _at all_.

"I know, and I appreciate the offer. Goodbye, PJ."

"Bye, Gabriela." He was pleased with himself for saying her name correctly this time. PJ carried his phone with him as he retreated to the bedroom, sat down at his desk, and booted up his laptop. He wanted to learn more about Gabriela, as well as her family-her parents and her brothers, too-and how they had influenced her both physically and emotionally.

Once his browser was open, he typed _gabriella cueto_ into the search bar. The first site that popped up had nothing to do with social media, and neither did the rest of the search results on page one. Of course, he kind of expected someone involved with a cult to keep a low profile online...He clicked on the first link and was taken to a site devoted to raising awareness of a missing woman named Elena.

On the homepage were two centered images of a pretty Latina woman with shoulder-length hair who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. In the first photograph, she was standing before an orchestra in formal attire playing a violin with a look of intense concentration on her face; in the second, she was posing by a tree in a pale yellow sundress with a subtle floral pattern while holding a pink-clad toddler version of Gabriela. PJ instantly recognized the latter's facial features and thick, wavy black hair. Both were smiling broadly for, and waving at, the camera, and the young girl had draped her other arm around her mother's neck.

There was a definite resemblance between the woman he was looking at now and the witch whose features had been stamped on his memory. Elena was Gabriela's mother, no doubt about it-and Dario and Matanza's stepmother.

He thought that Elena must be a witch in order for Gabriela to be one, because he was pretty sure Dario didn't possess any kind of supernatural powers, and Matanza was something else entirely. So her magic probably didn't come from their father. But, if it did, that meant Dario had the potential to be as dangerous as he was sinister...

PJ scanned the rest of the homepage before moving on to the news coverage of Elena's case. At the bottom was a copyright notice indicating the site was Gabriela's creation. Right above that was a statement written in Spanish, then translated into English: _If you have any information that could lead to finding Elena, please contact the police department in Mexico City or her daughter, Gabriela Cueto-Torres._ Relevant email addresses were attached. At least now PJ knew his sort-of friend's full name and how to spell it.

After reading several articles-there were copies of each in both languages-PJ knew more about Gabriela's tragic back story than he had ever expected to learn. In short, her mother, Elena, was a musician and artist from Mexico and the second wife of a Spanish fight promoter named Antonio Cueto. Gabriela was their only child together. Both Elena and her car had vanished without a trace in 1997 while she was living in her hometown of Mexico City. Curiously, Antonio's first wife had been murdered in Madrid years after he left her and his home country. Both cases remained unsolved to this day.

It also became clear to him that Elena's beauty ran more than skin deep. There were glowing testimonials from family and friends describing her as "a devoted wife and mother," someone who had "a big heart and a generous spirit," and a woman who "treated strangers like family."

In other words, not the type of woman who would walk out on her husband and young daughter, never to return. PJ knew then that something terrible had happened to Gabriela's mother. Since just over two decades had passed without a single confirmed sighting, the odds of her being alive were slim to none.

As he blinked the moisture from his eyes, he felt empathy towards, and sorrow for, Elena's daughter. She had been robbed of both a loving mother and a positive female role model at such a tender age. And Elena herself was obviously a good person who didn't deserve whatever had happened to her.

Further exploration of the website uncovered a photo gallery filled with pictures of the missing woman, both alone and with loved ones. It was obviously curated to tug at the public's heartstrings and serve as a reminder that Elena was still loved and missed by her family and friends. One image in particular caught his eye and inspired him to enlarge the thumbnail.

It was a wedding portrait. Elena was the blushing-and beaming-bride, dressed in a modest white gown with lace sleeves and a high collar. Some of her brunette curls had been pulled back, with a few tendrils hanging loose to frame her face, and her hairstyle was accentuated by a colorful array of flowers and a veil of mantilla lace. But it was her husband whom PJ couldn't stop staring at. It wasn't him being much older than his new wife, or the smug look on his face-as if he had just won the grand prize by marrying Elena-or even the thick, raised scar alongside his nose that commanded the South African's attention.

Dario was the spitting image of Antonio. The two men could have passed for twins...They even shared the same gray at the temples. The main differences were that the former had a deeper skin tone, and PJ had never seen a look of such cold malevolence in the son's equally dark eyes. Matanza's, maybe, but not Dario's. He shuddered as it occurred to him that Antonio had the kind of eyes one would expect to see in the face of a serial killer.

PJ exhaled in the form of a heavy sigh and leaned back in his desk chair. He was grateful that Gabriela had inherited so many fine qualities from her mother to counteract whatever negative traits she had acquired on her father's side, because he was already getting dragged deeper into the witch's eccentric, and perilous, world.

* * *

"Wake _up_ , Dario."

Dario was jerked out of a sound sleep by Catrina's sensual voice and the feeling of being shaken roughly by the arm. Her hazel eyes bored holes into his from just inches away, scaring him into sitting bolt upright in the armchair.

"I'm awake," he mumbled.

"You shouldn't be sleeping while I'm gone," she scolded, still leaning over him. Her long, black hair, which hung loose for a change instead of worn in a braid or a bun, framed her face. "You could have been attacked or possessed by a ghost."

He scowled at being lectured even as his heart beat faster at the idea of an evil spirit taking over his body. That horrifying possibility had never crossed his mind before. "I know, but my body had other ideas." Catrina had been half dead for so long that she had apparently forgotten human beings needed hours of sleep every day in order to function. As he became more alert, he also became aware that Catrina looked like she was about to keel over. The last time she had displayed that peculiar ashen complexion was after being informed of the Order's plans for the goddesses. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," she murmured, just before she yanked him out of the chair by his shirt collar and planted a searing kiss on his lips. It took his breath away-or, at the very least, some of his remaining energy-but having her cool lips pressed against his felt so good that he closed his eyes and instinctively returned the kiss. Naturally, Catrina chose that exact moment to end what she had started by dropping the dazed man back into the chair. She looked startled by his response, and Dario was sure that his expression mirrored hers. Neither could have predicted that he would react with passion. "As you might have guessed, my conversation with your sister left me feeling drained. Literally."

"I assume that she didn't take the news very well." Dario fought the impulse to pull Catrina into the chair with him and pick up where they had left off. For one thing, the combination of sleep deprivation and her succubus-worthy kiss had depleted him; also, he was pretty sure that she didn't consider feeding off his energy an intimate act. He was just a food source to her-the equivalent of a bleeding human who had crossed paths with a starving vampire-and it would be stupid to let his hormones cloud his judgment. Dario was convinced that Catrina hadn't desired anything more than sustenance when she had pressed her lips to his.

The thought was depressing enough to deflate his macho ego.

She shook her head. "Gabriela was in denial at first and lost her temper with me. Once I convinced her Elena was dead, she ran out of the room and wept for a long time. She has certainly inherited her mother's sensitive nature."

Dario bowed his head, too stricken by her tale to continue paying attention to his still-tingling lips. "And how did she react after you told her the rest of the story?" he asked fearfully. The guilt he felt gnawed at his stomach lining. _I failed my sister,_ he thought. _I should have been there to console her._ Gabriela had responded as almost anyone would, but she also struggled with addiction and bouts of depression, so her brother fretted that she might make one or more self-destructive decisions in her grief.

Catrina sat gracefully on the edge of the coffee table and crossed her sculpted legs at the ankle while Dario pretended not to notice. "I didn't get a chance. I was about to tell her when Joey Ryan entered the Temple and interrupted our conversation."

"Joey? He's a cop, you know-a crooked one. I'm assuming he was more interested in the money I kept in my desk than my disappearance." Because the man had child support to pay for the gods only knew how many children, and he knew where his boss-make that _former_ boss-stashed his paper currency...In that case, Dario was pleased that Gabriela had gotten there first and pocketed the cash. Now that he was dependent on Catrina, he could have used the extra money, but at least it had stayed in the family as opposed to ending up in the slimy hands of Joey Ryan.

"He didn't say why he was there. Gabriela cast a spell to erase his memories of her and knock him out before she left." Dario couldn't help but smirk with pride. It was exactly the kind of thing he hoped his little sister would teach him someday, although, after overhearing his late grandmother's remark about his powers, he didn't know how much conventional magic applied to him. "At least now she knows there are ways to bring her mother back. She told me to meet her at the Temple tonight-and Elena and I convinced her not to relate our conversation to Antonio. "

Dario yawned, feeling the side effects of being fed from while already in an exhausted state. "Good. I know it sounds crazy, but I was hoping you could become friends with them-"

" _Friends_?" Catrina repeated. She both sounded and appeared dumbfounded, like he had just spoken a language she was unfamiliar with and was awaiting a translation. Dario wondered whether she had ever had a female friend before or if it had just been a really long time since she was last close to someone. He definitely wasn't referring to the kind of unusual, borderline sexual relationships she tended to form with men. "I'm not exactly the kind of woman who makes friends with other women."

Dario rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about Ivelisse or Melissa Santos here. You might not want to admit it, but I can tell that you're lonely and miserable, and so are my stepmother and baby sister." Catrina didn't exactly look pleased that he had called her out on her true feelings, nor did she interrupt to protest. "It would be good for all of you-and I see no reason why Mil should object to you spending time with them." As far as Dario knew, it was only male competition for Catrina's attention that made Mil Muertes see red-pun intended.

"What about Jeremiah Crane?"

Dario stiffened. "I don't want him anywhere _near_ either one." Once she was alive again, Elena would be as defenseless as a cat without claws-and Gabriela had dealt with enough creeps for one lifetime.

But Catrina appeared unfazed. "They have nothing to fear. Jeremiah is convinced that I am the only woman for him-although he is not the man for me." She paused in apparent contemplation. "And neither is Mil. "

"You're still in love with Fenix, aren't you?" Dario inquired softly. Was that a trace of jealousy in his tone, or perhaps resentment? He dismissed the notion as soon as it entered his mind, convinced his thoughts were just muddled because he was still thinking about the kiss. Catrina was a stunningly beautiful woman-and one hell of a kisser-but he didn't have feelings for her. Having become warped through years of physical and psychological torture by his mother, he couldn't imagine feeling that way about _any_ woman.

"I suppose a part of me will always love him, but he has moved on"-Catrina's painted lip curled as she indirectly referenced the ring announced who had become her romantic rival-"and it's time I did the same.

"I don't want to waste my immortal life being the bitter and cold-hearted woman I have been for so many years." She was no longer looking at him; instead, her gloomy gaze was fixed on the curtains that stirred gently from the air conditioner. Dario felt strangely relieved to learn that Catrina had decided against attempting to rekindle whatever it was she used to have with Fenix. "I would rather not spend eternity alone, either. But I do not know how to change." The laugh that followed was bitter. "Sometimes, I fear that I have become my mother-consumed with a goal to the point of losing the ability to connect with others."

"But you are starting to change already," insisted Dario, and his statement regained Catrina's full attention. It was funny how they could see the changes in each other while remaining oblivious to their own individual progress. "Otherwise, you would not be distressed over what you just did."

"Or maybe I am 'distressed' because Gabriela reminds me of myself," she admitted. "Both of us are trapped in impossible situations...Her loyalties are divided between her parents, and I am neither dead nor alive."

Dario hadn't expected the two women to have anything in common beyond a few physical characteristics and supernatural powers. Perhaps a friendship between them was within the realm of possibility after all..."It won't be that way forever-for either of you."

"There is still hope for your sister, because she is more conflicted than corrupted. As for me"-Catrina shrugged-"that remains to be seen...But, if it makes you feel better, I will give your suggestion some thought. Now go back to sleep, Dario. The ghosts will not bother you with me here."

That, he believed, was her way of ending a discussion that had made her uncomfortable, and Dario was too exhausted to pursue the matter further, anyway. He tried to tune out the incessant malicious gossip of the dead as he closed his eyes, secure in the knowledge that Catrina would continue playing bodyguard as long as he proved himself useful. But maybe, just maybe, she had other reasons for keeping him around...The thought made him drift off to sleep with a smirk on his face.

Some time later, he stirred in the chair, awakened by a pair of familiar female voices having a quiet debate.

"I'll come back later when Dario is awake," Elena whispered.

"I could wake him for you, if you like," Catrina offered. Dario opened first one eye, then the other, to squint at the two women standing mere feet away.

The ghost quickly shook her head. "No, no...Just tell him-"

"It's all right," Dario interrupted. He stretched and smiled at his stepmother reassuringly, albeit through sleepy eyes. "I'm a light sleeper these days." He enjoyed Elena's company and would never turn down an opportunity to talk with her. Her presence was also a much-needed distraction from the kiss he had suddenly-and vividly-recalled...

"If you're sure..." Elena began with a look of uncertainty. Dario appreciated how she was so considerate of others, although he wished she would put herself first now and then. "I wanted to let you know that Gabi got back to Antonio's safely. She's devastated, of course, but she called a friend and he was able to calm her down-"

"'He'?" Dario's frown lines deepened in confusion. He didn't think his father would allow Gabriela to associate with a man who wasn't part of the Order, nor could he picture her befriending one of those cold-hearted bastards.

"Someone Gabi, um, met at the Temple yesterday. His name is PJ."

The surprises just kept on coming. "You mean PJ Black?" He was the only PJ Dario knew of personally, but what reason could be possibly have for being at the Temple? Everyone working for Lucha Underground knew the Temple temporarily closed its doors following the conclusion of each Ultima Lucha...Even Matanza would have been moved to another location if his brother hadn't been shot and had to go into hiding.

Elena shrugged. "I don't know his last name, but he has black hair and a beard, a tan, and an accent that sounds Australian or maybe English."

Dario shook his head in disappointment. "It's South African, actually. He's one of my employees...It would be in Gabriela's best interests to stay away from him." He thought to himself that the last thing the troubled Gabriela needed was a relationship of _any_ kind with an arrogant pretty boy. As his sister and Spanish, Aztec, and magical royalty, she deserved the very best, and Dario wasn't convinced that PJ Black was worthy of being her friend-or, gods forbid, something more.

His stepmother turned eyes wide with shock on him. "Why? PJ was kind to her. Sympathetic, even." She twisted her hands anxiously. "Is...Is there something I should know about him?"

"He's got a reputation as a...jerk"-Dario nearly said "jackass," but it felt inappropriate to swear in front of someone like Elena-"and the company he keeps is even worse. I'm concerned he might break her heart, or at least be a bad influence on her." PJ didn't strike him as the kind of man who would be content with just one woman, but Dario couldn't deny that he was loyal to, and protective of, those he considered his friends.

Elena's eyes couldn't be rounder. "Oh, dear...I just remembered that Gabi called him a werewolf the first time they met. You don't think he..."

"I don't know-but I wouldn't be surprised if he is," Dario grumbled. If so, PJ could do a lot worse to Gabriela than her brother had initially feared. He could easily kill her or turn her into a werewolf like him. On the other hand, should the witch realize her dream of being consumed by a goddess, she would be far more dangerous and deadly than any wolf. "Even if he's human, I still think Gabriela should have nothing more to do with this man."

"Your sister is both a grown woman and a competent witch. She can take care of herself," insisted Catrina. "And PJ Black, whatever you might think of him, is nowhere near as bad as Winter or Delgado. Would you rather she be involved with a man like that?"

They were exactly the kind of men his father would have wanted for a son-in-law-and the kind of man he had expected Dario to model himself after. The thought of someone like that getting close to his little sister turned his stomach. "Absolutely not, but-"

"It's only natural that you want to protect your sister, Dario," Elena interrupted, "but, as a ghost, I can keep an eye on her-and PJ, too-better than anyone. I'll let you know if I see or hear anything that concerns me."

He nodded to indicate that he approved of her idea. "Thank you. That _would_ ease my mind." But he was still unhappy about PJ and Gabriela spending time together, and he feared Antonio's reaction should he discover that his daughter had befriended an outsider...

Elena straightened to her full height, which was probably all of five feet three inches or so, and took a deep breath like a living person who intended to say something important. "There's one more thing I want to discuss before I leave: El Dragon Azteca."

"What about him?" Dario flashed back to their last encounter. Despite the uneasy truce that existed between the two, he still felt he had to walk on eggshells around the male ghost. El Dragon Azteca simply knew too much about the person Dario used to be.

"I _really_ want to come back and be reunited with my family, but I also want El Dragon Azteca in my life, too. We've been through so much together, and he's been so good to me-and Gabi-that it would break my heart if he stayed dead. And Gabi is going to need a new father figure soon...You might be able to use your stone, Catrina, since he has a"-Elena paused to swallow her discomfort-"a final resting place."

Dario was on board with the plan long before the ghost finished her speech. El Dragon Azteca had shown his stepmother and half-sister more kindness than either had ever received from Antonio, _and_ he had kept Dario's secrets so that his relationship with Elena could remain intact. Since Dario's lie had led to El Dragon Azteca's death, he felt an obligation to Elena to right the wrong.

He raised a hand. "Say no more, Elena. More than anything, I want you and Gabriela to be happy. And, if having El Dragon Azteca around will do that, then Catrina and I are glad to oblige." He threw a hopeful glance at Catrina, having realized belatedly that she wouldn't appreciate him answering for her, but she pleasantly surprised him by nodding her consent.

"Oh, thank you, Dario!" Elena rushed forward and threw her sheer arms around her oldest stepson, and, while he could barely feel her icy touch, her proximity was enough to make goosebumps rise on his flesh. Dario never was one for hugs, but, in that instant, he wished he could return the favor. After a long moment, the spirit stepped away and glanced at the other woman in a way that conveyed her gratitude. "And thank you, too, Catrina. I'm going to tell him right now!" Elena wore an ear to ear grin as she dissipated into thin air.

"I believe your stepmother has feelings for this man," Catrina remarked as she gazed at the spot where Elena had just been standing.

"I think so, too. Elena deserves a good man like him." It was ironic that she had grown so close to her former husband's nemesis, but Dario took comfort in knowing that El Dragon Azteca would never harm Elena in any way. He remembered what he had planned to tell Catrina earlier before he got distracted, and, since he could feel the promise of another, longer nap tugging at his eyelids, there was no better time to disclose that information. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that I had some ghostly visitors while you were gone: my paternal grandparents. And my abuela had something _very_ interesting to say..."

Catrina turned to him, intrigued. "What did she say?"

Dario yawned again. "Apparently, my father took away my magic."


	18. Switching Sides

Catrina was floored by what Dario had just told her and leaned towards him in intrigue. "And what, exactly, did she mean by that?" She felt herself gripping the edge of the coffee table she was perched on while she awaited a summary. If his grandmother was correct and Antonio _had_ somehow stolen his firstborn's powers, then how could Dario still do magic? And why would his father mentor Gabriela alone when there was at least one other younger witch in the family who could benefit from his guidance?

Dario shrugged. "I can't say for certain, since neither she nor my grandfather went into detail, but I believe it's connected to my first memory of the key." He then launched into a bizarre and confusing story that Catrina struggled to make sense of. "My father came back into my life many years after he left my brother and me with our devil of a mother. She was long dead by then...Anyway, shortly after his arrival, I started to feel weak and developed a high fever. I was confined to bed for days, and my father often sat next to me and chanted in a language that wasn't Spanish. While he was chanting, he would place this key"-Dario lifted the metal object attached to the cord around his neck for emphasis-"on my forehead, and the metal would get so hot it caused me pain...After I recovered, he gave me the key and told me it was infused with powerful magic that would keep Matanza in line as he grew older and stronger." He paused and spread his hands. "And, since I can only do magic while holding the key..."

By the time Dario wrapped up his tale, Catrina had finally connected the dots. "You think he somehow trapped your powers inside that key."

He bobbed his head. "Yes...Well, maybe. Since my sister can use witchcraft to transfer the power of a god or goddess to an inanimate object, I see no reason why my father couldn't do the same with my powers. Perhaps my sickness was the result of him draining my magic."

While that made sense to Catrina, little else did. "But why he would take it away, only to give it back to you in another form?" In his depraved mind, Antonio must have had a good reason to justify his actions, yet Catrina couldn't begin to guess at his motives.

Dario sighed. "I have no idea. I also don't understand why I couldn't use the magic before." Catrina assumed he meant before his untimely death and resurrection via her rock. He frowned following a stifled yawn, and it was obvious from the look in his eye that these unanswered questions were going to bother him until he finally solved the mystery.

A lightbulb went off over Catrina's head-metaphorically this time-and she rose and reached down to slide the red bull from the center of the table towards the edge, away from the cloth-wrapped magical rock it had been keeping company.

Her companion sat up straight, now wide awake with panic etched on his face from the moment she first touched the bull. "What are you doing?"

"An experiment. Give me your key." She waited impatiently for Dario to remove the cord from around his neck and deposit the requested item in her outstretched hand, but he didn't make a move. "I want to see if you are the only one who can access the magic within."

"Ah...What kind of experiment did you have in mind?" There was a wary note in his voice, as if he expected her to propose that he be the guinea pig for some cruel test. His gaze flicked nervously from the statuette to her face.

"I am going to attempt to move your red bull back into place with nothing more than intent and the key."

"Oh." Dario's tense features and rigid posture instantly relaxed, and he handed over the key without further ado.

Catrina called it quits after several minutes of fruitlessly willing the statue to relocate while firmly clutching the key. She gave Dario back his key so he could reproduce the experiment. "Nothing...Not even a hint of warmth."

"It didn't glow, either," he added helpfully. Dario made the task look effortless in comparison, although, in his fatigued state, it took him longer than she would have expected given his track record. He returned the key to its usual place of honor. "Maybe you just weren't concentrating hard enough."

She shook her head. "I couldn't have been any _more_ focused if I tried. Have Gabriela try it if you wish, but I am now convinced that key contains the magic you once possessed-and I believe you are the only one capable of using it."

"Well, it's better than not having magic at all." Dario searched her face with an element of concern on his. "If you don't mind me asking...Why were you upset earlier?"

It took Catrina a long moment to collect her thoughts and share them. "Seeing the bond between your stepmother and sister-and witnessing the depth of Gabriela's grief-made me realize that I have never personally experienced such a strong connection with someone. Not with my own mother or anyone else. I can only imagine what it would be like to feel that way about Marie, and for her to care about me in return..." She wiped away the single tear that dared to escape in aggravation. Whatever bond the two of them once shared had neither transcended death nor years of separation. "I fear that I am so damaged I will never be able to get close to anyone."

Dario looked perturbed by her explanation. "First of all, you shouldn't compare yourself to anyone else. Your personality and circumstances are uniquely your own." Truer words had never been spoken. "And, believe it or not, I get the impression that your mother _does_ care about you-"

"Why? Because she tried to bring me back? Because she is willing to give up her life so that I can live again?" Catrina's voice dripped with venom. "She only promised me the rest of the amulet in exchange for the gauntlet. Saving the world matters more to her than saving her own daughter." If only her own mother had been more like Elena...

"Perhaps she just doesn't want you to inherit a world ruled by bloodthirsty gods and goddesses."

Now _that_ was an angle Catrina had never considered before...She shook her head with a smirk. "I never thought I'd hear you defending the chief of police, Dario."

He shrugged. "I know a thing or two about bad mothers, and Marie is _nothing_ like my mother or grandmother...Family isn't always about blood, you know," Dario went on. Catrina thought it was a somewhat ironic statement coming from a man who constantly stressed the importance of bloodlines and ancient traditions, but he was also the same man who had bonded with his stepmother during their first meeting. "The only blood relatives who mean anything to me are my brother and sister, and I wouldn't have a mother at all if Elena hadn't married my father...If you don't like the family you have, then create a new one."

Catrina smiled as she recalled her conversation with Dario's stepmother in his office. "I told Elena I was estranged from my own mother and she practically insisted on adopting me."

Dario chuckled. "I'm not surprised. To be perfectly honest, you'd probably fit in better with us than anyone else."

Her smile grew. "Probably." But she was not a Cueto-by blood, marriage, or adoption-and would never be one.

"Speaking of my family...Did you ever tell Gabriela what you wanted from her?"

She shook her head. "I tried, but she cut me off and insisted she would 'do anything' to learn what happened to Elena. I had planned on telling her that I needed the use of her powers and nothing more until she learned the truth about Antonio." Catrina knew in her heart that Gabriela would insist on personally killing the bastard once the rest of Elena's story came out, but was the fiery young witch willing to go to war with the rest of the Order-and, if necessary, the Aztec gods and goddesses? That remained to be seen.

"I can't say I'm surprised by her reaction. I'd do just about anything for Elena, too-and I've only known her a few days." Dario wobbled as he got out of the chair and stretched while letting out another yawn. "I need to get some sleep. Wake me before you leave."

"Wait." She needed to clear the air between them _right now_ or risk suffering through countless awkward silences and stilted conversations in the days to come. Dario froze with a puzzled expression. "About what happened earlier...I want to make it perfectly clear that I only kissed you because I needed to feed and I would have to explain everything to Mil if I went to him."

"I know." He paused. "And I'm sure you understand that my response was simply a physical reaction to being kissed by a beautiful woman." Dario immediately looked like he wished he could take the last four words back.

"Then we are in agreement. We will forget this ever happened and instead focus on what _really_ matters: destroying the Order. There is no future for either of us-or the people we care about-as long as they exist."

"Absolutely," he agreed, and turned on his heel to stagger tiredly towards the bedroom.

Once she heard the door shut behind him, Catrina settled into her armchair and reminded herself that dismantling the Order had to be their number one priority. Yet, to her annoyance, she was unable to keep her thoughts from wandering back to the kiss they had shared. If it meant nothing to her as she claimed, then why was she still thinking about it? Why could she vividly recall the heat of his lips against hers?

Perhaps because Dario was a surprisingly good kisser. He wasn't restrained like Mil, or sloppy like Jeremiah...The word "passionate" leapt to mind. His kiss actually reminded her of the way Fenix used to kiss her-and that realization scared the hell out of Catrina.

She had never believed another man could rekindle the spark she had felt with Fenix, and for that man to be _Dario Cueto_ , of all people...Granted, she thought him handsome in a dark, stereotypical Mediterranean way, and it wouldn't surprise Catrina if the man who always wore black and had a penchant for violence found her attractive because of their common interests. She was, however, inclined to blame his intense reaction on both male hormones and that hot-blooded nature peculiar to those with Cueto DNA.

Yet, even if he _did_ have feelings for her beyond lust-which Catrina highly doubted-the idea of pursuing some kind of relationship with him was ludicrous.

Dario was a middle-aged man still struggling with both mommy and daddy issues, and Catrina had her own demons to battle after being one of the undead for two centuries. Neither one knew firsthand what a healthy relationship entailed and would probably drive each other crazy, if not homicidal. Although the two could certainly have a _very_ exciting sex life-provided her succubus-like nature didn't prove fatal to him...

Catrina knew she wasn't going to find lasting happiness with a man who had emotional baggage and cursed genes. But, should she be fortunate enough to meet someone she was compatible with on every level, their relationship would be short-lived because neither Mil nor Jeremiah would tolerate another man getting close to her.

She pouted over the bleak future she faced. It seemed like the biggest obstacle to achieving her dreams was not her undead state, or possible possession, or even her jealous admirers, but the ice surrounding her heart like a protective shield. Unless she managed to melt that ice, she would repel all but the most determined suitors and lose her chance to be a mother. Not that her poor relationship with her own mother had prepared her for the latter role...

She was also beginning to think that befriending Dario's half-sister and/or stepmother was just asking for trouble. For one thing, Catrina didn't have the faintest notion how to be a good friend to anyone-especially another woman. Besides, her presence wasn't needed since the other women would have each other, Dario, Matanza, El Dragon Azteca, and possibly PJ Black for company. Also, if either one found out she was planning to trade her own mother's life for immortality, it would put an end to their friendship at once.

The undead woman experienced another surge of envy towards the female Cuetos and Dario, too. She envied Dario for having family members he loved and who loved him in return, Elena's natural ability to strike up a friendship with almost anyone, and Gabriela, who had never suffered the side effects of being directly touched by death. A moment later, it occurred to Catrina that she was being petty, not to mention dismissive of the others' tragedies and subsequent trauma, and she was surprised to feel a twinge of disgust over her increasing bitterness.

Catrina remained ensconced in her armchair for hours, absentmindedly flipping through books while her thoughts were elsewhere, until the sound of water running in the shower brought her back to the present. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed a minute later, indicating that it was now four-thirty in the afternoon.

Dario came down the hall awhile later, fully dressed and drying his damp hair with a red towel. _Red...Like a matador's cape. How appropriate for a Spaniard,_ Catrina thought with amusement. She was relieved that he hadn't walked out clad _only_ in a towel, because she certainly didn't need yet another distraction.

"I'm coming with you to the Temple," he announced. "My sister is going to need all the support she can get. She shouldn't have to deal with all this on her own."

"We agreed to wait-"

"And I will-upstairs, with Matanza." Dario was wearing a stubborn expression that inferred his mind was made up and nothing could persuade him otherwise. "You can meet with Gabriela downstairs, then get me after you've told her the rest of the story."

That was an acceptable compromise in Catrina's eyes. "In that case, we should leave early so that you do not run into her before then." Since they would be doomed if Gabriela continued to side with her father-and, by extension, the Order-Catrina chose to believe their plan would go off without a hitch. She had already gotten through to the girl once, and, with Elena's coaching, she was certain she could do it again. But she actually regretted that she had to rip out Gabriela's heart to achieve their goals...

* * *

Gabriela's stomach was in knots as she finished sprinkling the pungent herbal concoction she had prepared on the interior side of the last unprotected window. In addition to the Temple's other exterior windows, she had already sealed off every door that lead to the outside world. She capped and returned the jar to her purse and turned back to a waiting Catrina, who had been holding a covered plate containing Matanza's dinner while his sister worked.

"It's done," she stated at last. "No one else can enter the Temple unless I break one or more of the seals." This time, they need not worry about being interrogated by the cops-or distracted by a sexy werewolf. Only those capable of teleportation could get in and out, and Gabriela's amulet kept them at a safe distance. There was nothing to fear now except the truth behind her mother's death...

"Is your father suspicious?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. He was busy mixing a potion when I got back and didn't pay much attention to me. I spent most of the day in my old bedroom." It was the potion Mariposa mentioned, which Antonio had explained was a hair growth potion designed to make Marty lose interest in Melissa Santos. Gabriela hoped the male Martinez would personally collect his cure, because she didn't trust his gold-digging sister alone with her father for even a second...She reached for the plate in Catrina's hands. "I have to give Matanza his dinner real quick, and then-"

"I'll do it," Catrina volunteered hastily, and took a step back so the younger woman couldn't grab the food from her. "Wait in the office."

"But..." Gabriela shut her mouth indignantly when she realized that Catrina was already gone and reluctantly trudged towards her late brother's office. She resented having to take orders from someone who was neither her father nor an Aztec deity. Once their discussion was over, she was going to have a little talk with Matanza and inform him that _she_ had prepared his dinner and not Catrina so he knew it wasn't poisoned.

Entering Dario's former office wasn't _quite_ as traumatic for his sister this time since the police had cleaned up the bloodstains and confiscated the bullet hole-riddled chair. She wasn't ready to accept Agent Winter's theory about Black Lotus being Dario's killer, yet she couldn't dismiss the possibility, either. There was no shortage of people who both wanted her oldest sibling dead and were bloodthirsty enough to commit murder-Catrina included. But Gabriela felt that Catrina would rather keep Dario alive so she could toy with him any time she chose.

She didn't have to wait more than a minute or two at most until she had company. "You might want to sit down for this conversation," Catrina suggested as she gestured to one of the remaining chairs in the room.

Gabriela shook her head. She wasn't some delicate flower who fainted easily. "Let's just get this over with...Who murdered my mother?"

Catrina, normally the definition of impassive, looked surprisingly reluctant to answer. "Your father," she said quietly.

" _No_!" The word seemed to be ripped from Gabriela's throat by some external force. Her hands formed tight fists that she wanted to pummel the other woman with. "Now I _know_ you're lying to me, Catrina," she spat. She had been foolish to believe that Catrina, the queen of mind games and a longtime nemesis of the Cueto family, would actually tell her the truth! "Mama might have been here earlier"-that was an undeniable fact-"but she's not here right now. I know because she loved my dad, and she would never, _ever_ accuse him of...of-"

"You remember seeing your mother with cuts and bruises, don't you?" Catrina interrupted, which put an abrupt end to Gabriela's tirade. "You witnessed her covering those bruises with makeup-and wearing a scarf in the summer heat. She made excuses for her injuries, like falling down the stairs or tripping over one of the cats, and you believed her because you were an innocent child. But you knew Antonio had a temper because you often heard him shouting, and you kept your distance whenever he was in a bad mood. Although Elena reassured you that his anger was directed at the servants, she was usually the victim of his abuse-both verbal and physical."

Hearing those events spoken about out loud brought them rushing back in lurid detail. So those incidents _weren't_ just nightmares...They were actual memories that Gabriela had repressed coming back to haunt-and/or to warn-her in her dreams. She had never understood how someone as graceful as Elena could be so clumsy, and she was appalled to realize that her father was behind most, if not all, of those "accidents"...Her eyes began to water, but she was past the point of caring whether Catrina or anyone else saw her cry.

"I'm starting to remember, but I don't understand how he could do that to her, or why...You know my mother, Catrina. She would never hurt _anyone_." She couldn't recall Elena raising her voice even once.

There was a long pause before Catrina responded, and Gabriela guessed that her mother was going into detail. "Your father desperately wanted another son-a son with Aztec blood-but he and your mother could not have any more children. That caused much tension between them. Elena also learned the truth about the Order and your father's involvement in the dark arts. She was desperate to get you away from that environment." It was shocking to hear someone not involved with the Order reference the group, but that paled in comparison to the insider information Catrina was feeding Gabriela about her parents' marriage. "On the last day of her life, she was planning to leave Antonio and take you with her-but he came home early and caught her with a suitcase in hand."

Gabriela wanted to yell at her to shut up and childishly cover her ears so she wouldn't have to listen to another word. She felt as if her heart had just been shattered into a million pieces and she would never be whole again. But she owed it to herself-and to her mother, who had taken great pains to get her message across-to uncover the truth.

"Go on," she whispered as her heart thumped in anticipation.

"There was an argument...Your father insisted on raising you as a witch and leading you down the path of dark magic, but your mother wished for you to grow up like an ordinary human girl and make your own choices. He slit her throat in order to have control over your future."

A stunned Gabriela sank onto the edge of the desk, narrowly avoiding sitting on Dario's _I'M KIND OF A BIG DEAL_ nameplate, and dug her nails into the underside of the desk. She felt lightheaded, and squeezed her eyes shut to combat the spinning room as she attempted to recreate Elena's final moments alive. She pictured the flash of rage in her father's eyes, the glint of the knife, the blood running in rivulets down the white silk blouse Mama had worn that morning, and the terror in her honey-tinged brown eyes as she took her last, ragged breaths.

The horrific visuals were accompanied by a soundtrack of her father's quotes over the years: "I wish I could help you, child, but I have not had any luck finding her, either...Nobody will ever compare to your mother, Gabriela...I created this amulet to protect you from the ghosts of the Cueto family's enemies..."

It seemed like every single word that came out of his mouth was a lie.

Now that she knew of Antonio's role in her mother's disappearance and death, not to mention the abuse, all of her loyalty to-and love for-the man went up in flames. He didn't _need to_ kill Elena to keep his secrets; he could have simply erased her memories. But he _had_ killed her, and, although he could have resurrected his wife at any time with witchcraft, he chose not to.

His crime was senseless as it was unforgivable.

Gabriela opened her eyes and jumped off the desk, let out a feline snarl that gave way to a primal scream, and used her powers to telekinetically lay waste to the office. An enraged shriek accompanied each assault on her surroundings. Just by waving her hands, every single window shattered in a spray of glass. The witch then made all of the framed photographs and paintings sail off the walls. Another wave of the hand cleared Dario's desk of the nameplate, red rotary phone, labeled bourbon glass, pens, planner, and everything else that had cluttered the surface. Finally, she called on her magic to tip over the remaining chairs one by one and knock the liquor cabinet down with a deafening crash.

Afterward, she stood in the center of the carnage, hot with rage and chest heaving, while Catrina surveyed the damage from nearby with raised brows and rounded eyes. It was more emotion than Gabriela had ever seen her express.

"Feel better?" the ghostly woman asked in a casual manner that would have been comical under different circumstances.

"Not really..." The tears that had gathered in Gabriela's eyes earlier finally started to roll down her cheeks. At the moment, she felt betrayed, and infuriated, and heartbroken-not to mention physically wiped out. She wouldn't "feel better" until her mother had returned to life and her father was six feet under. "I'm going to kill him," she seethed, "and it's going to be a slow and painful death!" As she stared out of the empty space in the door where a window bearing her late brother's name had once been, Gabriela pondered all the ways she could prolong her father's suffering in his final moments alive. She suddenly glimpsed movement out of her peripheral vision, and, upon turning, Dario's stunned face appeared on her right side.

Gabriela screamed again and clapped her hands over her mouth.

" _Dario_?" she gasped several seconds later, once she had recovered enough to lower her hands and speak. Gabriela was unable to believe her eyes. The figure was as solid as any living, breathing human being, yet there had been so much blood spilled in his chair and on the office floor that he couldn't possibly have lived long with his injuries...As he gaped at her through the blown out window in the side entrance door, he looked astonished by what his youngest sibling was capable of. He probably had no idea who she was and thought she was just some crazy woman who had broken into the Temple and ransacked his belongings in an attempted robbery.

"You said you were going to wait," Catrina reproached him, much to Gabriela's bewilderment. She _knew_ he was here all along?

Dario couldn't take his eyes off of Gabriela-and vice versa. "How could I after all that commotion? I had to see what was going on." He smiled nervously at his half-sister. "Hello, little sister." Dario opened the door and stepped over the threshold, causing glass to crunch beneath his shoes as he joined the women in the room. "Don't worry about the damage...I was planning to redecorate, anyway," he quipped.

"I thought you were dead," Gabriela blurted out, half stating the obvious and half justifying trashing his office. But he _couldn't_ be dead, and neither could Catrina-not entirely, anyway-because she had learned long ago that people like her who hadn't yet crossed over were incapable of seeing ghosts. Or maybe that was yet another one of her father's lies, and Catrina was right about her amulet's true purpose...

"I was"-Dario glanced at Catrina in a way that both expressed gratitude and answered one of his sister's questions while raising more-"but I'm not anymore." He studied Gabriela as if _she_ had risen from the dead and not the other way around. "Your mother has told me so much about you." Now she understood how he knew her identity before she could introduce herself. "You really do look like her."

"And like"-Gabriela almost said "Papa," but she didn't want to acknowledge being related to that son of a bitch after all of the awful things he had done-"you." They shared the same slim build, thick, black hair, those bushy eyebrows Gabriela had tweezed into submission since becoming a teenager, and deep brown eyes, although Dario's irises appeared to be a shade darker if possible.

He nodded, looking pleased with the comparison. "Yes, I can definitely see the resemblance."

"So...Who killed you?" The inquiry was bordering on offensive, but Gabriela didn't know what to say to the brother she had never known and, until only minutes ago, assumed to be dead. She felt so awkward that she'd rather be having another rambling, one-sided talk with Matanza.

He swallowed hard. "Agent Winter."

Goosebumps popped up on Gabriela's arms and on the back of her neck. The FBI agent had been so quick to point the finger at Black Lotus, yet he had met with Dario on the night he was shot, and, of course, he carried a gun...He had even told Gabriela the next day that she would do a better job of running the Temple than her oldest brother ever had...Did he say that because he believed Dario to be dead after pumping two bullets into him? Gabriela was next in line to run the Temple, since Antonio was in no condition to do the job after injuring himself traipsing up and down the stairs while caring for Matanza the last time Dario went away.

"They're going to pay," she swore, and her renewed fury put an end to the crying. "Both of them-Agent Winter _and_ our father...Did you know that he killed my mother?"

Dario nodded solemnly. "Yes, she told me. I am so sorry, Gabriela...I know you want revenge-believe me, I do, too-but we have to come up with a plan first. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you." Both of them went silent for awhile, and Gabriela got the impression that Dario had something he needed to get off his chest. "I understand that being part of this family has caused you a great deal of pain, and I wouldn't blame you if you chose to have nothing to do with either Matanza or me." Gabriela was startled by the tears that glistened in her brother's almost black eyes. His smile was pained as he added, "But I hope you'll consider giving me a chance to be the big brother you deserve. Matanza, too."

She could see evidence of his internal struggle written all over his face. Standing before her was a different Dario Cueto than the man she believed him to be-not the conniving narcissist from Antonio's stories, but someone who cared for and wanted to protect his female family members as he did Matanza.

Gabriela took a few minutes to mull over Dario's suggestion. She _really_ didn't have much family left...She had been shunned by her relatives in Spain and forced to distance herself from her Mexican family members, and now she had disowned her father, too. But she still had two brothers and the hope of a reunion with her mother. And she couldn't forget about PJ, either, who was the closest thing she had to a friend. Opening up to these men could get her the love and attention she was starved for-or it might lead to nothing but heartbreak...

 _What would Mama have done?_ she asked herself. _What would she want me to do?_

"I'm not going anywhere. I've already started to bond with Matanza, and I'd like to get to know you, too. Our father told me all kinds of things about you-bad things-but now I'm not sure who or what to believe anymore..." The relief that spread across Dario's face was quickly chased away by sadness. After today, Gabriela might never be able to trust anyone ever again, and she was still dogged by the fear that her eldest sibling was only interested in her because of her magic. Her being a witch had probably already come up in conversation with Elena. But she no longer accepted her father's statements as gospel, and she was also curious to find out whether Dario would prove himself worthy of a relationship with her.

"We can take things slow," he promised. He looked like he wanted to embrace her, but he instead remained still as a statue, which his wary half-sister appreciated. "We might be familia, but we're also strangers, and I know I have to earn your trust."

She nodded slowly. "That sounds good." Gabriela would automatically proceed with caution because few people were nice to her without expecting something in return-favors, money, sex, even her hand in marriage-but she tried to keep an open mind. Mama had always considered Dario and Matanza her sons and loved them every bit as much as her biological daughter, and Gabriela knew it would please her if she made an effort to salvage what was left of the Cueto family.

"Your brother has been living with me since I raised him from the dead," Catrina spoke up. Gabriela had almost forgotten she was there. "And, as long as you can keep your location a secret, we would both feel more comfortable if you stayed with us for awhile."

There were so many things Gabriela wanted to ask Catrina after that odd speech-like why she was helping her arch enemy and if her home was a mausoleum-but there were more pressing matters to attend to. It seemed that her living arrangements had already been settled, however.

"You can have the bedroom, and I'll sleep on the sofa," Dario offered. "We'll start plotting revenge in the morning."

 _So much for the mausoleum theory..._ Gabriela was glad to leave her neighborhood, which had been an Order enclave for years. And, as desperate as she was to make her father pay with his life, Dario had a point about the risks of impulsively confronting a hot-headed, murderous witch.

"I can also teleport you to and from the Temple and your house as needed," added Catrina.

"All right, but I need to grab some things first. Can you show me that spell? I want to see if I have any of the ingredients."

Catrina nodded. "It is likely that you own most of them."

"I'm going to visit Matanza before we leave." She waited for Catrina to vanish before starting to walk away, then stopped to glance over her shoulder at an indecisive-looking Dario. "You should come with me."

He grinned. "Well, if you insist..."

They climbed the stairs without saying another word, and the clicking of her heels and the slapping of his shoes against the steps were the only noises in the Temple until they reached their destination. When he saw them approach his cell, Matanza hurried towards his siblings with a series of enthusiastic grunts and huffs, and Gabriela picked up her own pace.

"I've missed you, too, Matanza." She overheard Dario's sharp intake of breath as she slid her hand between the bars of their brother's cell.

"Be careful," he murmured, looking as alarmed as if Gabriela had just stuck her hand inside a cage at the zoo that housed a large predator, which she supposed was a fitting description for their brother-god.

"Don't worry. He won't hurt me." She was proven right when Matanza immediately latched onto her fingers and began examining her glossy plum nail polish. Although his grip was tight, he wasn't squeezing or causing his sister any discomfort. She smiled at his almost childlike fascination with all things shiny.

"It looks like you and my-sorry, _our_ -brother have become fast friends," Dario remarked with an awed look.

"Yes, well, I think we're the only people who have ever been kind to him." Gabriela knew her half-brothers' mother had been abusive, but there was also evidence that their father had never treated Matanza like a son. Even though Antonio claimed that a piece of his human soul had been left behind in his middle child's body, he always referred to him as either a god or a monster. Gabriela appealed to Matanza's remaining humanity in hope of winning his trust, and, so far, her plan was working.

"You can add your mother to that list. She's watching us right now with a smile."

She glanced at Dario with wide eyes. "He can see her?" When he nodded in confirmation, Gabriela felt a pang of envy toward her brothers and Catrina, even though she knew the others had paid a terrible price for the privilege of communicating with ghosts. It was sobering to realize that she was the only individual among them who hadn't yet died-a statistic made even more unbelievable given her history of binge drinking and cocaine use.

Catrina reappeared next to Dario and said to Gabriela, "Soon, you, too, will be able to see and talk with Elena." There was a piece of notebook paper dangling from her hand- _the spell_.

Gabriela had to remove her amulet and slip it into her purse before she could get close enough to Catrina to take the spell from her. As her fingertips brushed against the paper, she silently prayed that the ghostly woman was right. There was nothing she wanted more than to be reunited with her mother, although she was equally determined to avenge Elena's murder.

* * *

"We did it," Elena declared with a victorious smile. She and Catrina were waiting opposite each other on twin charcoal gray sofas in Gabriela's living room while the latter dashed through her house with two large suitcases and tossed in items she deemed necessary. One suitcase was already packed and waiting by the front door, along with Elena's violin in its case. To everyone's relief, Gabriela had taken one look at the body recreation spell and announced that she already owned most of the items it called for. She was also confident that she could gain access to the more esoteric ingredients. "We saved Gabi."

Dario turned away from the painting he had been studying-one of many exquisite pieces of artwork decorating the room-and managed a subdued smile, but he did not share his stepmother's jubilant mood. While Gabriela could magically conceal both herself and the rest of the group from Antonio, it was only a matter of time before they were forced to confront him, the Order, and possibly even the gods and goddesses themselves. There was a very good chance they would all end up as either ghosts or hosts.

 _We might need to recruit more individuals who have a connection to the supernatural,_ he concluded. Off the top of his head, he could list a number of his-former-employees who might qualify. But it wouldn't be easy to make allies, because the Cuetos and Catrina had burned far more bridges than they had built. Who would believe any of them when they swore they were now working for the greater good? Surely, the threat of annihilation by the Aztec deities would be enough to persuade anyone to join the fight. If not, Dario was open to negotiations, and he was sure that Gabriela and Catrina would readily cut deals as well.

And speaking of Catrina...Dario couldn't help but feel somewhat awkward around the beautiful undead woman since she had succubus kissed him, so he opted to sit next to Elena on the other sofa. There was a glass-topped coffee table between them, and the center was decorated with his missing gold bull and a luchador mask that Dario recognized as Prince Puma's. The scene was like the beginning of a shrine to Gabriela's unique heritage-aside from the handbag she had tossed nearby upon arriving home.

"I thought you were dead," she had reiterated by way of explanation when she first realized the display had caught her brother's eye, "and I found the mask in the parking lot, and Prince Puma doesn't work at the Temple anymore, so..." She was blushing when she offered to give Dario back the sculpture and added, "I always wanted one of these."

"Keep it," he had told her indifferently. "I still have the red one." The object that had saved his life held greater significance to him than this version, anyway. After the despicable _thing_ they called their father had died, they could confiscate his black bull statue and use it to decorate Matanza's cell.

 _My family has everything except what really matters: love and happiness,_ he thought sourly. But, with Antonio gone and Gabriela and Elena in the picture, they had a chance to form the kind of family he had encouraged Catrina to seek out.

"Ready!" Gabriela called on her way down the stairs. The suitcase made thumping sounds all the way down the steps as she lugged it behind her. She had changed out of her leopard print dress and heels and into a fitted black T-shirt, indigo wash bootcut jeans, and black running shoes. "What?" she asked at the bottom of the spiral staircase, and began to self-consciously play with one of the four matching gold hoops in her double pierced earlobes when she realized that Dario and Catrina were both staring at her. "It's getting late and I want to be comfortable...Oh! I almost forgot." She hauled the second suitcase over to the first one, marched towards the coffee table, and withdrew a glass jar filled with green herbs from her purse. The witch then went about the room lining the windowsills and the floor in front of the main entrance door with the jar's contents. The heady scent was so strong that it made Dario's nose tingle and his eyes water from many feet away.

"What is that for?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. While he would _love_ to sit down with Gabriela and pick her brain about magic, he didn't want to give her the impression that he was only interested in witchcraft. Dario was eager to learn everything he could about the sister who had been unknown to him for two-and-a-half decades.

"These herbs will keep anyone from getting in-or out. Well, except for ghosts. And we can still come and go as long as Catrina teleports us." She stood from her crouching position and started to walk away. "I have to seal off the rest of the house before we leave."

"She did the same thing at the Temple," Catrina informed him.

"Clever girl." Dario could breathe easier knowing that his sister's actions were protecting not just all of them but Matanza, too, from Antonio and his minions.

"Woman," Elena corrected him. "Although I still think of Gabi as my little girl, she is an adult now." Her melancholy gaze was glued to the suitcases waiting by the front door, and Dario wondered if she was mentally revisiting her foiled attempt to leave his father. "All of my children have grown up without me..." Her bloody hands lay clasped in her lap, and, while seated beside her, Dario noticed that several of his stepmother's nails were broken. The damage had undoubtedly been incurred while she was fighting for her life, and it was a mental image that got his blood boiling.

"You have still been more involved in their lives than either my mother or Dario's," Catrina reminded her.

"And you will have many more opportunities to be there for us in the future," Dario added. He hoped that their words had lessened Elena's guilt somewhat. There was only so much a ghost could do for the living.

Gabriela returned, grabbed her purse in one hand, dropped the herbs inside, and collected the suitcase she had abandoned. "Can you get the other suitcase and Mama's violin, Dario?"

"No problem." It felt good to be able to do _something_ for his baby sister, even if it was just a minor favor.

Afterward, Catrina stood between the siblings, took hold of a wrist on each Cueto because their hands were full, and the three of them plus Elena found themselves standing in Catrina's own living room literally a second later. Gabriela let go of her belongings and sought out the comfort of the sofa while she recovered.

"Does teleporting ever get any easier?" she moaned, eyes closed. Her lighter complexion had taken on a sickly hue.

"Every single time," Dario promised as he set the suitcase and violin case down by his feet. He had been ferried between the Temple and the apartment often enough to start acclimating to teleporting and rarely felt more than a brief wave of dizziness.

Gabriela nodded and remained in that position for a little longer before digging a simple gold ring out of the handbag resting in her lap. She then cupped the piece in both hands.

Dario watched, entranced, as his half-sister stared intently at the ring and her scarlet lips moved rapidly in a chant too quiet to hear from where he was standing. He leaned over to witness the jewelry take on an increasingly brilliant glow, just like his key did whenever he used it to do magic. He held his breath until Gabriela abruptly stopped chanting and slipped the ring onto the ring finger on her right hand.

"What is the purpose of the ring?"

"As long as I'm wearing it, our father can't use magic to find me." She stared at him with blatant curiosity. "You _do_ know we're witches, right?"

"Yes." Dario was uncertain whether or not she was including him in that category.

His sister withdrew the glass jar of herbs again and repeated her trick from earlier to secure every window as well as the outer doors, which didn't take nearly as long this time since Catrina's apartment was "cozy" compared to Gabriela's mansion. She caught sight of Dario's wrinkled nose and added, "Don't worry. The smell fades quickly."

"I am going to need your cellphone," Catrina told her newest houseguest once she had finished her task and put the herbs back. "I do not want you talking to or writing anyone-"

"'Writing'?" A perplexed look passed over Gabriela's face. "You mean texting?"

"Or sending emails," Dario suggested with a smirk at Catrina's expense. Since she had been frozen in time while in her late twenties or early thirties, it was easy to forget just how _old_ Catrina actually was. But, now that he remembered, Dario felt youthful in comparison-although not _quite_ as youthful as his millennial sister.

Catrina didn't appear to be bothered in the slightest that she was somewhat out of touch with modern technology. And why should she care if others thought her old-fashioned? Teleportation was both faster and more personal than any of the methods humans used to communicate these days. "While you are here, I insist you avoid participating in any activity that may lead to your father or the Order tracking you-and Dario."

Gabriela handed over the phone without an argument, but she came alive when she glanced around the apartment and spotted the bottles of liquor and plastic cups waiting on the kitchen table. She was headed in that direction when a teleporting Catrina cut her off. Dario had leaped to his feet in fear, and he felt Elena clutching his arm.

Catrina glared at the younger woman. "What are you doing?"

"It's been a long day. I need a drink-"

"No, you don't," Catrina and Dario said at the exact same time. Gabriela glowered over her shoulder at her sibling before turning her attention to Catrina, who was speaking again. The hostile defiance that flared in her eyes reminded Dario of how Matanza looked at him whenever his baby brother didn't get his way. Something told him Gabriela didn't hear the word "no" very often.

"Your mother is concerned about your drinking," Catrina explained. "She also told us you can't do magic unless you're sober, and your brother and I need your powers at their strongest."

Although Dario couldn't see Gabriela's expression because her back was to him, he did witness her bow her head in defeat. It wasn't the response he had expected from the same woman who had left his office in ruins, but, then again, she had just been to hell and back and probably didn't have much fight left in her.

"I think I'll go to bed," she mumbled. She glanced over her shoulder again at her brother. Although it was only just a few minutes past seven and much too early a bedtime for someone her age, Gabriela looked as exhausted as Dario had felt prior to his refreshing afternoon nap and hot shower. Losing both parents in one day appeared to have aged her beyond her twenty-five years, physically and on the inside as well. "I'm sorry for destroying your office. Catrina told me what happened to my mom, and I just...lost it."

He smiled benevolently. "I understand completely." His half-sister had inherited a mixed bag of traits from both sides of her family, but, at that moment, Elena's goodness was dominating. It was clear that Gabriela's days of trying to live up to Antonio's unrealistic expectations were over. He looked down at Elena, who had let go of his arm and was beaming at her daughter with the same pride Dario felt.

The female witch then faced Catrina. "I know you're only helping me and my family because you want something from us, but thank you anyway." She walked toward the bedroom without waiting for a reply, and the others listened to the door click softly into place.

"I don't have a problem with you drinking, Dario, but I'm not sure it's safe to leave alcohol lying around where Gabi can get to it," Elena said uneasily. Her stepson silently agreed with the point she had made.

Catrina, who was closer to the kitchen than either of them, popped over to the table, collected the bottles, and gave Dario a questioning look. He reluctantly gave his consent by nodding and wandered into the kitchen to watch her pour the liquor down the drain one bottle at a time. His disappointment was fleeting. Although he would miss the luxury of helping himself to a drink whenever the mood struck, the inconvenience was nothing compared to the dangers alcohol posed to his sister. Having grown up with an alcoholic mother prone to drunken fits of rage, he knew that unstable personalities and adult beverages didn't mix well.

Elena had trailed her stepson into the room, and she put a barely perceptible hand on his shoulder after he sat down at the kitchen table. "You're a good brother, Dario. Matanza and Gabi are lucky to have you." Her praise made his heart swell. Dario's own mother had never once thanked him for practically raising Matanza by himself, and his father constantly berated him for "spoiling" his younger brother and making him "weak."

"Yes, your sacrifice is noted and appreciated," Catrina said dryly. She stored Gabriela's cellphone in a high cabinet above the stove, then disappeared with the empty liquor bottles and came back without them. Dario assumed she had dumped them in a recycling bin or trash container outside.

"Is Gabi right, Catrina?" Elena asked her with a troubled expression on the heart-shaped face that her daughter had inherited. "Are you helping us because you expect something in return?"

"That was true in the beginning," Catrina responded slowly and deliberately, "but things have changed since then. The more I get to know you and your family, the more I like you and want to be of assistance." She avoided looking at Dario, which made him wonder whether she, too, had felt the heat when she fed off of him, or if she was just aware of his mixed feelings toward her special kiss.

"I like you, too-even if you _are_ kind of intimidating at times."

Catrina laughed. "I seem to have that effect on people." Dario couldn't argue with that, but lately, Catrina was having a very _different_ effect on him...Under the bright kitchen lighting, he had noticed that her hazel irises looked more green than brown, but he found them hypnotic either way.

El Dragon Azteca appeared next to the table across from where Elena stood, causing Dario to jump and Catrina to blink, but Elena wasn't at all startled by his sudden arrival. She had probably asked him to meet with her tonight so she could fill him in on her latest conversation with Gabriela.

"Well?" he asked her. "Did you tell her?"

Elena nodded. "She knows everything." She put her palm to her forehead and closed her eyes momentarily. "Well, _almost_ everything...I forgot to let her know you're coming back, too."

"We'll tell her later," Catrina promised.

"Where is Gabriela?" Dragon Azteca's tone was full of urgency as he took Elena's hands in his. "She didn't confront her father, did she?" His concern filled Dario with shame and disgust for orchestrating the man's death, even though he had only been thinking of Matanza's welfare at the time and knew nothing about Elena, Gabriela, or the bond they shared with El Dragon Azteca. The luchador was the father figure Dario and his siblings should have had, and he might have someday become the husband Elena deserved...

Now Elena shook her head. "No, not yet. Dario and Catrina convinced her to stay with them, and Gabi is resting in the bedroom right now."

"Thank goodness." Dragon Azteca lowered his voice out of instinct even though the female witch was unable to hear him.

"Please, have a seat," Dario implored the ghosts. Elena sat diagonal from him, and Dragon Azteca automatically claimed the chair next to hers. He was clearly protective of her, but there was nothing possessive whatsoever about his demeanor. Dario's heart beat just a little faster when the seductive Catrina chose to sit beside him rather than continue to stand around.

El Dragon Azteca gave Dario a penetrating look that seemed to peer directly into the latter's soul. "What happens now that your sister has her freedom?"

"We're going to save the world," Dario answered ambitiously. "And, of course, we're also going to bring you and Elena back and get justice for everyone my father has ever wronged."

"'We'?" Elena asked dubiously. "Just you, Catrina, and Gabi?"

Dario didn't blame her for having reservations. It was a tall order for two witches and one ghostly succubus of an undead woman. "And anyone else who wants to join us." He knew that Aerostar and Catrina's mother would be able to set aside their personal feelings to assist in the war against the Order, and he was confident there were others willing to do the same.

El Dragon Azteca nodded. "Count me in."

"Me, too," Elena chimed in.

Although Dario wasn't sure what the spirits could contribute to the fight, he was grateful for the additional support.


	19. The Missing Witch

Antonio was in a rare cheerful mood when he came home, although he was surprised to discover that the lights were off. The Cueto patriarch had expected to find his only daughter in the living room waiting impatiently for his return. She had probably just gone upstairs to work on an art project or get some reading done in the meantime. Antonio flipped the light switch next to the front door and called her name, then raised his voice after waiting a beat, but he heard nothing. No shouted greeting, no eager footsteps pounding the stairs.

Although the silence was unsettling, he shrugged off her absence, having concluded that Gabriela had merely lost track of time while visiting with Matanza and she would walk through the door any second now with an explanation and an apology. She was enamored with her brother-turned-god and surely delighted in having a captive audience to listen to her chatter away. Antonio knew she hadn't returned and turned in early, because his booming voice could wake the dead, and Gabriela had been a light sleeper ever since her mother went missing.

Antonio limped into the kitchen with the assistance of his cane and removed the note he had left on the refrigerator door before leaving: _Meeting with The Lord. Be back later._ Of course, he hadn't _really_ met with the god in human form, but had instead seized an opportunity to spend quality time with Mariposa while delivering her brother's potion.

The elderly man was still trying to catch his breath after their most recent encounter.

He crumpled up the note and disposed of it in the trash. Antonio relished having the house to himself again, because Gabriela had already started to get on his nerves. When she wasn't asking if she could get or do something for him, he could feel her eyes boring into him with concern for his welfare. At least now he had a chance to tackle the vexing dilemma of how to erase Dario's soul. If only one's spirit could be destroyed as easily as the rest of them with Antonio's preferred method of gasoline and fire! That was why he had charmed his wedding band and created the amulet for his daughter.

He idly wondered what had become of Elena's soul over the years. It wouldn't surprise him if she had literally transformed into an angel.

In the handful of spell books he consulted- _Death Magic_ among them-he discovered two spells that dealt with extracting and eliminating souls and marked the pages with bookmarks, but none of the books revealed how to separate a soul from its vessel via long distance. However, he felt a glimmer of hope upon reading that a summoning spell could be used to lure the entire package to the spellcaster so that he or she could withdraw the ghost in person. It was such a simple solution to a complex problem that he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before as he marked that page, too. The mental image of Dario walking up to his father's open front door in a trance and entering, unable to comprehend or prevent the horrors that awaited him during his hypnotized homecoming, brought a smile to Antonio's heavily lined face. He would give Gabriela a long list of errands that morning to keep her occupied and away from the house all day-assuming she had returned by then.

A few minutes later, the grandfather clock chimed eight times, and Antonio could no longer ignore the gut feeling insisting that something terrible had happened. He knew Gabriela kept her cellphone close at hand at all times, so he sent her a few irritated texts, inquiring about her location and ordering her to contact him immediately. Half an hour passed without a reply, so he flooded her voicemail with a series of increasingly distressed messages.

There had to be an innocent explanation for her radio silence. Perhaps her cellphone had died or needed to be charged.

Now that he knew how to deal with his worthless son's equally worthless soul, Antonio gathered up his books and was walking by the couch to return them to their shelf in the vault when something caught his eye and made him stop in his tracks. Gabriela had shed a single hair-a black strand long enough to reach halfway down her back-while sitting on the worn, drab olive couch. He knew it belonged to her because Mariposa had never gotten further than the front hallway and his rendezvous with escorts always took place elsewhere. Antonio was inspired to revisit the spell he had used to determine Dario's status and carefully plucked the wavy strand from the fabric it clung to. The images that appeared in the water would provide him with the answers he sought.

He refilled the steel bowl he'd used last time with bottled water, added an item connected to the missing person-Gabriela's hair-and spilled blood from his palm into the bowl with the same athame before peering anxiously at the water. Tragically, the only thing his efforts accomplished was giving the liquid a murky appearance.

The male witch began to shiver violently as he backed away from the bowl. The dark water was caused by one of two ominous possibilities: either Gabriela was being concealed by magic or her essence-her soul-had been obliterated.

Antonio's mind whirled with grim theories about how daughter's whereabouts as he cleaned and bandaged his bleeding palm. Another witch, or someone knowledgeable about magic, could have abducted and/or murdered the girl...Maybe Gabriela had gotten spooked by something and gone into hiding...Or she had finally decided to pursue her dream of playing host and invoked a goddess to possess her...

Any decent father would fly into a murderous rage at the possibility of his child suffering, but Antonio, true to his nature, was thinking of himself first. The gods had not forgotten that he promised Gabriela would use her magic to serve them, and they would hold him personally accountable if anything happened to the younger witch that prevented her from fulfilling _their_ obligations. They might even decide to punish him indirectly by turning their wrath against Mariposa instead...And now he had the goddesses to contend with, too.

Mariposa...No. _No_. Gabriela couldn't possibly have learned that her father was carrying on with the other woman-although she was certainly suspicious after finding the butterfly alone with him inside his home. Antonio's lover was a closely guarded secret, as was Elena's fate, and he had taken great pains to keep Gabriela in the dark about both. He reassured himself that his daughter had no reason whatsoever to either run away in a snit or confront Mariposa. Yet that was little consolation because it meant someone else had done his daughter harm, possibly to get back at Antonio, and he had so many enemies it was pointless to start compiling a list of suspects...His imagination began to run wild. Maybe his daughter had been assaulted by a sexual predator, or the victim of a serial killer targeting witches, or snatched by a coven that wanted to increase their power.

He dragged himself back to his armchair with a groan to resume playing the waiting game, only to keep getting up to pace off some of his anxiety.

When nine o'clock rolled around and there was _still_ no sign of the missing witch, he placed a call to Agent Winter. "I need your help. Gabriela is missing and I can't locate her with magic."

There was a shocked delay before his follower responded. "What do you mean, you 'can't locate her with magic'?"

"It seems that someone either abducted or killed my daughter and is using magic to keep her location a secret." _Or she went into hiding and doesn't want to be found..._ Antonio scoffed at, and immediately rejected, his paranoid thought.

"Another witch?"

"It's possible, but, as you know, non-witches can also use magic."

"True...So, how long has she been gone? Do you know where she went?"

"She been staying with me, and she left here around six-thirty to feed Matanza at the Temple. She should have been back by now."

"I need a description of what she was wearing and the vehicle she was driving."

Antonio recounted that Gabriela was clad in some kind of animal print dress and was able to describe the aged, battered black sedan she drove whenever she didn't want to attract undue attention-which was ironic, given her choice of outfit.

"I'll take a look in and around the Temple, see if I can find her or anything suspicious...What about her behavior? Has she been acting strange lately?"

 _Define 'strange '..._ "Why? You think my daughter is a runaway?" Antonio's paranoia reared its ugly head again.

"I'm sure that's not the case-I know Gabriela is devoted to you-but we've got to look at all the angles," Winter told him calmly.

"Fair enough," grunted Antonio. He frowned as he sifted through his memories of the hours between Gabriela's two most recent trips to the Temple. "Now that you mention it, she did seem quiet and withdrawn earlier..." Antonio had been busy concocting a potion and daydreaming about Mariposa, so he had written off his daughter's introverted mood as female hormones and left her alone to mope. Now he was starting to worry that there was more to the story.

"Don't worry, Antonio. I'll find your daughter."

"You'd better," the cult leader growled in frustration. The man hadn't felt so helpless since he was still living under his parents' roof and being subjected to regular tirades and beatings. Dario had surely grown accustomed to feeling useless by now, but Antonio couldn't stand feeling as weak as those he criticized. "If anything happens to her..."

"Yeah, I know," Agent Winter said shortly. "We're both dead."

Antonio ended the call, tossed the phone down beside him on the worn armchair, and dropped his head in his hands. He reminded himself that Gabriela was fiercely loyal to her family and that he had taken every precaution necessary to keep his secrets just that. After a moment, he clasped his hands, closed his eyes, and murmured a prayer to the Aztec gods and goddesses, requesting that they bring his daughter home and punish those responsible for her disappearance. He did not specify what condition she should be in because it didn't matter; Antonio knew how to raise the dead as well as construct a body if needed. Nonetheless, his heart continued to beat in an erratic, concerning manner.

The phone rang roughly fifteen minutes later, causing him to jump, and he answered on the first ring when he saw who was calling. Had the deities sent Agent Winter to answer his prayers?

"Have you found her?" His voice was hoarse with fear.

"Not yet, but I did find her car parked about a block from the Temple-"

"And?" an inpatient Antonio interrupted. His heart was now racing in his tight chest, and he wiped one of his sweaty palms on the leg of his khaki pants while keeping a firm grip on the cellphone with the other.

"And there's nothing suspicious about the scene. Her vehicle was locked up, and there were no signs of a struggle. No broken windows, no keys in the ignition...No bloodstains or personal effects left behind, either." The FBI agent paused. "The doors to the Temple were also locked and it was dark inside."

"Someone must have taken her as she was leaving the Temple." But it wasn't easy to get the drop on a witch, so whoever it was had either used magic to subdue her or snuck up on the girl and rendered her unconscious. He hoped the individual-or individuals-behind the crime wouldn't demand a ransom, because Antonio hated to part with his money. He would, however, grudgingly pay up if he had no other alternative...Then he would snuff out the kidnapper or kidnappers and retrieve his cash as well as his child.

"That's my theory, too. Unless, of course, she _wanted_ to disappear-but that doesn't sound like her," he added hastily when Antonio started to argue with him on the subject. "If I find any clues, I'll let you know-and, if I see Gabriela-

"Bring her to me," Antonio commanded. After several tense seconds passed, he reluctantly acknowledged the possibility that Gabriela had decided to walk away from her old life. "If she resists-which I doubt she will-call me and I will personally come get her." If Gabriela _had_ decided to run away of her own volition, she would put up one hell of a magical fight to avoid being captured. Not that she had, of course, because she had no reason to. Antonio believed she had met a darker fate, and he, Gabriela, and Matanza would teach whoever was responsible that they had messed with the wrong family.

* * *

Dario was awakened by an eerie, high-pitched noise resembling a hybrid between a scream and a sob. He almost fell onto the floor in terror but managed to brace himself against the edge of the black leather sofa just in time. Catrina immediately rose from her beloved armchair and faced the hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom.

"What the hell was _that_?" gasped Dario. He put a hand over his pounding heart, pushed aside the bath towel he'd used as a blanket, and swung his shaky legs over the edge of the sofa that had become his new bed. Whatever the bloodcurdling sound was, it had mercifully ended as suddenly as it had begun.

"That," Catrina stated in her typical unperturbed manner, "was your sister."

Elena teleported into the living room a second later. "Gabi had a nightmare," she explained, her brow creased with worry. Dario recalled Elena saying that she was going to stay close to her daughter overnight. This had happened after their group discussion about the Order had come to an end and El Dragon Azteca excused himself to return to parts unknown.

Although Dario was immensely relieved that his half-sister was not in any danger-such as being under attack by a ghost with evil intent-that didn't stop him from hurrying past Catrina and Elena down the short hallway and knocking on the bedroom door.

"Gabriela? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she called back through the closed door. "It was just a stupid nightmare. Nothing to worry about."

Her oldest sibling sighed and leaned his head against the wooden barrier between them. Not showing signs of "weakness" to the outside world was the Cueto way-a lesson instilled in each generation by their abusive parents. He didn't dare add to his sister's humiliation over losing face by inquiring about the subject of her nightmare, although he was certain she had either dreamed about her mother's callous murder or retaliation over walking away from her old life.

Dario could empathize with the latter, as being hunted down by someone connected to the Order was one of two main themes in his nightmares these days. The other ongoing theme was being terrorized by the dead, who insisted that his soul belonged to the Other Side.

He took a second to check his watch and discovered that it was two-ten in the morning. Reluctantly, he turned away from the bedroom and started back down the hallway. It was hard not to feel that he had failed Gabriela as a brother because he was clueless when it came to comforting her. Perhaps it was best to simply drop the subject and let her make the next move...

He was pleasantly surprised when she ventured out of the bedroom several minutes later and wandered into the kitchen. Dario was already there, helping himself to one of the bottled waters Catrina had stuck in the refrigerator. Gabriela's casual clothing, red highlights, and youthful, makeup-free features currently made her look more like a teenage girl than a witch who had just left a doomsday cult. But her eyes were bloodshot, and the skin below was puffy and smudged with dark circles, indicating that she had done more crying than sleeping overnight.

"What do you have to eat?" she asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid." Given all the bad news she had been bombarded with, Gabriela probably didn't have much of an appetite yesterday, but Dario expected that she must be famished by now. The two of them were already skinny, and they would be reduced to mere skin and bones if Catrina didn't make another run for groceries soon. He grabbed a second water bottle and held it out to her. "Water?"

"Thanks." She drank from it, then edged past her brother to peer into the refrigerator, which he took as his cue to wait at the kitchen table. Catrina and Elena were already there, but Dario, being half awake and sufficiently distracted, didn't think twice about sliding into the chair next to the undead woman whose kiss had left him breathless as well as utterly confused. He rubbed his stiff back while he watched Gabriela stand at the counter and concoct a fruit salad out of red grapes, strawberries, and banana slices cut with a plastic knife. She carried her snack over to the table and was about to sit down when Catrina interrupted her.

"I wouldn't sit there unless you wish to sit on your mother's lap."

"She's still here?" Gabriela asked excitedly as she pulled out the only unoccupied chair, which was right across from Dario.

"She never left," he assured her, with a rush of gratitude that Elena's love and devotion extended to her stepsons as well.

A contented smile spread across Gabriela's face. "I _thought_ I could feel someone touching me-in a comforting way, not a creepy way..." She trailed off with a mystified frown. "But how is that even possible?"

"Don't you remember removing your amulet?" Catrina reminded her. Now that she mentioned it, Dario had a vague recollection of his sister taking off a chain with a glowing gold heart attached as Catrina approached her with the spell in hand.

"You were right," sighed Gabriela. She viciously speared a grape, popped it in her mouth, and glanced at Dario after she was done chewing and swallowing. "Apparently, Dad lied to me about the amulet, too. He said it would protect me from vengeful ghosts-and maybe it does-but it also kept Mama and me apart."

"Please tell her to put it on before she goes to bed," Elena begged Dario. "She can't defend herself when she's sleeping, and your family has so many enemies...And there's a ghost from the cult who is obsessed with her, too..." Her stepson assumed she was referring to Lawrence Delgado, and he understood exactly why Elena's fine features had contorted with disgust. The dead councilman was the epitome of a sleazebag.

Dario was glad to pass along the message. "Your mother insists that you wear your amulet when you sleep," he told his half-sister. "One of those 'vengeful ghosts' might attack you while you are at your most vulnerable." Dario was profoundly disturbed by the growing list of dead enemies his astute mind had conjured up. They must be itching to drag a Cueto to the Other Side-or possess one of them for any number of malicious reasons.

The witch nodded thoughtfully, although she didn't look nearly as distressed by the possibility as her family members were. "I will."

Dario's mind raced as he watched her work her way through the fruit salad and gradually drain the water bottle. Although there were a million questions he wanted to ask his sister, ranging from the mundane like her favorite things to deep topics such as her beliefs and aspirations, he found himself tongue tied. He was afraid of overwhelming her and causing her to retreat from him like a turtle withdrawing into its shell.

Gabriela finished eating a strawberry and raised her head to meet Dario's eyes. "It's nice to have company for a change," she murmured.

"That's what she needs most right now," Elena concurred. "Being alone so much is unhealthy."

Catrina was studying Gabriela with interest. "Elena told us that you spend most of your time alone."

Gabriela nodded somberly. "Yes. It's been like that ever since I got my powers."

"When was that?" Dario queried. He recalled reading in one of Catrina's books that witches came into their powers during adolescence, but he couldn't remember if the author mentioned the exact age it was supposed to happen.

"On my thirteenth birthday."

It dawned on Dario that their father had paid him a visit shortly after his own thirteenth birthday, which also coincided with Dario's high fever and the key's first appearance. He didn't believe it was a coincidence that all of these events had taken place right around the time he would have officially become a brujo-a witch.

After an extended pause during which she focused on the contents of her plate, Gabriela decided to elaborate on her lonely teenage years. "That's when Papa pulled me out of school and started homeschooling me. He wanted to teach me all about magic, conquistadors, and Aztec mythology, and he wouldn't let me see my friends or family because he was afraid I might tell them what I was learning." She discussed the past in a matter-of-fact way, but the glint in her eye betrayed considerable resentment towards the man who had dictated almost every aspect of her life until just recently.

"Before that, Gabi had playmates her own age and was spoiled by my family." Dario couldn't think of a time when Elena had sounded so angry or her expression had been so dark. "They were her last link to a normal life-and to me, her _own mother_ -but Antonio wanted her all to himself. It's always been about what _he_ wants."

Dario's hands had been clasped and resting in front of him on the tabletop, but now he dug his nails painfully hard into his palms as an outlet for the rage that coursed through his veins. He was determined to do everything in his power to spare his baby sister and stepmother additional heartbreak, because they had already endured more than their fair share. Dario had always looked to others-Matanza, Black Lotus, Catrina-to defend him, so being someone else's protector was a new role for him, but it came to him naturally.

A sidelong glance at Catrina revealed her lips pursed in disapproval and a flicker of sympathy-no, _empathy_ -in her hazel irises. She, too, had suffered from an isolated existence as a result of her parent's attempt to take control of her destiny.

"What about your father's side of the family?" she asked Gabriela. Dario calmed down a bit, pleased that Catrina had already found common ground with his sister. Despite Catrina's reticence, he remained convinced that a friendship between her and the other women would be good for all parties involved. "Aside from your brothers, are you in contact with any of them?"

Gabriela immediately shook her head. "I've never met them, but I've been told they're horrible people." She looked at Dario to either confirm or rebut the information she'd been given, and waited for him to nod before she resumed speaking. Dario thought back to his dead grandparents' judgmental and spiteful remarks from yesterday. 'Diabolical' might be a better description of them..."My father said they hated both non-witches and Mexicans, so they wanted nothing to do with us or Mama."

"That is their loss," Dario said firmly. "You have other relatives who love you and care about you." He had written off his grandparents and uncle as lost causes long ago, and now he was certain that at least some of their coldness towards Antonio, his wives, and their children was rooted in old prejudices. Knowing that their cruelty was born out of ignorance took some of the sting out of their words and actions.

"Including everyone back in Mexico," Elena added. "They still miss and talk about her." Dario translated the ghost's words for her daughter, whose subdued, bittersweet smile in response concealed her pearly whites.

"I miss them, too. I wish I could see them again..." Her eyes began to dart around the apartment and her brow became furrowed, as if she was searching for something she had misplaced and just now realized was missing. "Where's Mil Muertes?"

"Mil has his own place," Catrina informed her.

"Does he know Dario is living with you? What about Jeremiah Crane?"

Catrina and Dario exchanged an uneasy look before the former responded. "The answer to both questions is no."

 _'No, not yet,' you mean,_ Dario thought with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He prayed that his baby sister could teach him some magical self-defense tricks before that day arrived.

Gabriela shook her head, then refocused her laser beam of a stare on Catrina. "I don't get it. Why would you would risk making even _more_ enemies by helping the Cuetos?"

"I believe an alliance between your family and mine would be mutually beneficial."

"But what do you _want_ from us?" Gabriela persisted. Her tone contained a weariness that Dario knew all too well and blamed on years of dealing with people who only talked to a Cueto with the intention of striking a deal.

The undead woman acted as if she was requesting minor favors. "Magic...Insider information-"

"It's still early. Maybe we should talk business after breakfast," Dario interrupted, but neither woman chose to heed his suggestion. Elena, on the other hand, nodded vigorously. She looked equally displeased with the direction the conversation had taken.

Catrina, in her usual blunt way, barged ahead before Dario could intercede again. "Our families have been at war for centuries, but now Dario and I have joined forces to take down the Order." Gabriela's eyes bugged out, and her jaw about hit the table. Catrina casually swirled a red fingernail around the darkened-with-age wood grain. "And, by agreeing to do anything I wanted for information on your mother, you have pledged your allegiance to our cause."

"Both of you are out of your minds!" Gabriela was suddenly wide awake and on her feet. "Don't you see what Catrina is doing, Dario? She's trying to get us killed! I can't _believe_ you agreed to go along with this suicidal plan-"

"I see that paranoia runs in the family," Catrina said lightly. She studied Gabriela, who, in her agitation, seemed to be headed for a panic attack, with a measure of pity. "If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you the moment you took off your amulet. And, as far as your brother is concerned, he was already dying from his wounds-but, at his request, I chose to resurrect him. Both of you are worth more to me alive than dead."

Now that she had been reassured that Catrina wasn't harboring homicidal intentions toward either her or her eldest brother, Gabriela sank back into her chair. "Why?"

"Because the Order's mission to bring back the gods poses a threat to the few individuals I genuinely care about. And, now that the goddesses are in need of female vessels, my own existence is at stake."

"How...How did you know about the goddesses?" a flushed Gabriela stammered.

"I told her about them and the enchanted belt," Dario confessed. "But, in my defense, I knew next to nothing about you at the time. You were just some anonymous witch who did the Order's magical dirty work."

She raised her chin defiantly. "I did it because I wanted to make Papa proud of me. He was the only family I had left; I couldn't lose him, too. But now..." Her cheeks got redder, and the betrayal in her dark eyes turned to fury, reminding the others that she had inherited Antonio's anger issues as well as Elena's sensitivity. "That bastard has to pay for what he did to my mother, but the entire Order..." She shook her head in disbelief at the bigger picture, and all that remained of the inner fire Dario had just glimpsed was a flame.

"I know it's a lot to ask." He redirected the conversation, hoping to reason with her. "But all of us are in danger, Gabriela. If we don't deal with both our father and his followers, we will be forced to spend the rest of our lives either in hiding or on the run." He wasn't happy with Catrina for forcing him into a conversation he was not ready to have, but he had been backed into a corner and had to say _something_.

"If they don't destroy us, the gods and goddesses will!" Gabriela fired back. The same woman who performed dark magic, trespassed on a hunter's private property, and got up close and personal with Matanza was clearly-and justifiably-terrified by the wrath of her Aztec ancestors' deities. She tugged at her hair with both hands as she ranted. "Then they'll torture our souls for eternity!"

Her outburst made Elena flinch as if she had been slapped by an invisible hand. She shook her head frantically, sending her brunette curls flying. "I won't let that happen. I'll trade my soul for my children's if I have to..."

Catrina deliberately looked at the panicked ghost and shook her own head before turning back to Gabriela. "You need not fear any of them," she said in a tone one might use to soothe a child frightened by a bad dream or a storm. "If you die, I can use my stone to restore life to you as I did for your brother. Join us, and you have my word that neither of you will ever spend more than a few seconds on the Other Side." The smile that followed her speech was almost amiable. "Consider it my thank you gift."

Elena, overcome with relief that the souls of her daughter and stepsons were no longer in peril, slumped in her chair.

Dario scrutinized his sister's features. Her could tell that Catrina was getting through to her, and he had an idea that he was certain would win her over completely. "Think of your mother, Gabriela. It's not safe for her to live in a world where our father has magic and is surrounded by men who would kill and die for him." There was also someone else who mattered a great deal to her..."And think of Matanza, who will be forced to stay in his cell until I can return home with him."

 _I'm sorry,_ he wanted to tell his stepmother. _I'm not happy about dragging Gabriela into this mess, either, but we need her powers and her knowledge to stop the Order._ All of them would suffer unimaginable horrors if they were captured.

As he had anticipated, there was an immediate shift in Gabriela's demeanor when he brought up Elena and Matanza. She would probably never trust Catrina, and she had her doubts about Dario's intentions, but she would move heaven and earth for her mother and her other sibling.

"That wouldn't be fair to either of them," she murmured, then fell into a contemplative silence for awhile. "I would say we made a deal with the Devil, but Catrina isn't the Devil." She stared at the remaining food on the plate while her hands tightly gripped the edge of the table and a single tear trickled down her cheek. Her next words came out in a near whisper and broke her brother's heart. "Papa is."

Dario nodded. "I couldn't agree more." It would probably take their family years to heal from all of the grief and pain Antonio had caused them, but at least they had each other to lean on. As for Catrina...Well, she was merely _devilish_ these days.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Catrina asked with a faint smirk.

Gabriela shrugged. "Neither. It's the truth."

"I wanted to live, and I knew Catrina could save me," Dario explained. He inhaled, then exhaled deeply. "And, after everything Dad and the Order have done-to me and to the entire Cueto family-I'm ready to declare war on them. It's the only way we'll be free of those cabrons forever." He wondered if he had offended his stepmother by swearing, but a glance at the apparition indicated that she had more important things on her mind.

"I'm scared for all of you," Elena confessed a moment later, "but I don't suppose you have much of a choice..."

"Free..." Gabriela repeated the word in an uncertain way that reminded Dario of someone tasting a new food. Both of them had spent much of their lives answering to higher authorities, but their father had even _more_ control over his youngest, and for a hell of a lot longer, too. For the Cueto family, freedom was an abstract concept. Even Antonio had to face consequences from the gods and goddesses should he do something that displeased them.

"Tell her about El Dragon Azteca," Elena prompted the others. Again, Catrina took the lead before Dario had a chance.

"You know, Gabriela, your mother will not be the only one returning from the grave. Elena insisted that El Dragon Azteca accompany her on this journey."

"I loved El Dragon Azteca," Gabriela said after a prolonged, stunned pause. "He was like a second father to me..." Every kind word spoken about him was an arrow through Dario's heart and a reminder that he had gotten a good man killed. The younger woman bit her lip. "Mama and El Dragon Azteca deserve a second chance more than any of us. I won't stand in the way of their happiness." She blew out a breath and nodded decisively. "All right. I'm in."

Catrina's satisfied expression seemed to say, _As if you had a choice._ Elena, on the other hand, appeared to be wrestling with the same misgivings that Dario had. Putting his baby sister in harm's way made him sick with regret, but she had already made a number of choices that-by the Order's standards-would condemn her to death. The only other alternative to war was living like fugitives, and that wasn't much of a life.

Meanwhile, Gabriela finished her last few bites and drank the rest of her water in silence, then stood and shoved her chair under the table. "But I'm not making any plans until after I've had more sleep and some caffeine. I want to be wide awake for _that_ conversation."

* * *

There was a ghost waiting inside Catrina's bedroom closet.

She had intended to ambush Dario after he finally returned to his own bed and went back to sleep, because she had witnessed him passed out on the sofa earlier with his undead bodyguard sitting just feet away, leafing through a book. Something about Catrina's presence made the deceased edgy, even though she was not easily intimidated, and she would prefer to avoid another confrontation with her.

So, when the bedroom door at last opened with a creak, the ghost expected to see her eldest son walk in. She had been plotting his death ever since Matanza had intervened and foiled her first attempt to kill Dario with a hot iron by using the red bull sculpture to bash their mother's skull in.

After her soul was torn from her body and she pieced together what had happened to her, she vowed that her two sons would one day pay for their disobedience and eventual betrayal with their lives-and by her hands, too. Then she had sworn that her ex-husband would meet the same fate. All of her suffering could be traced directly back to Antonio Cueto. If he hadn't been such an asshole and pressured her into having children she didn't want, then abandoned both her and the ungrateful brats, she could have done something meaningful with her life. She could have been someone special.

But the individual who turned on the light and entered the room was female-and she wasn't Catrina, either. The closet door was open a crack, and the spirit pushed it open a little further to get a better look at the visitor, who had just shut the main bedroom door and trapped the two of them inside.

A scowl crossed her face when she identified her: Gabriela, Antonio's youngest devil spawn and a living, breathing reminder to his first wife that he had walked out on her and moved on with another woman. She didn't know why Gabriela was staying with Dario and Catrina, nor did she care, but she loathed the girl and fantasized about murdering her so she would have the joy of watching Dario and his crybaby of a stepmother discover the corpse.

It was obvious at first glance that Gabriela was in a terrible state. Sleep-deprived, frightened, anxious, depressed, angry...The overwhelming negative energy written all over her face tainted the air itself, lending a suffocating vibe to the atmosphere. A ghost could feast on such heavy feelings for _days_ and get a long-lasting boost of power as a result, but this particular spirit was seething with envy instead.

The dead woman teleported out of the closet and crept closer with vengeance in her brown eyes and blood crusted in her long, black hair and smeared all over her face, neck, and dress. It was the first time she had been able to get within touching range of Gabriela, and a quick visual scan revealed that the girl's ever-present necklace was missing. Maybe that pendant was actually an amulet...If so, hopefully its owner was now left without protection from the dead in addition to a bare neck.

The ghost glowered at the human while she started to dig through the handbag on the desk, mumbling under her breath now and then, oblivious to the danger she was in. She was once young and pretty and alive, too, and had also had a common yet lovely Spanish name, but her male family members had sucked the life out of her and reduced her identity to a series of increasingly bleak titles. Wife...Mother...Victim...Ghost. In return, she had vented her resentment towards her husband and sons every chance she got, lashing out both verbally and physically. Now she thought of herself as a nameless _thing_ whose only purpose was to destroy the people who had destroyed _her_. She could barely remember the woman she had been before Antonio, Dario, and Matanza came along, but she was dead inside for many years prior to her physical death.

She despised the Cuetos for stealing her hopes and dreams, but, as she observed Gabriela, she realized that she could use the witch to get revenge on those bastards _and_ reclaim the lost parts of herself. A sinister smile formed in conjunction with the details of an immoral plan.

Since she had spied on the young woman for years-usually while stalking Antonio from a distance, because she couldn't get close to him, either-she knew that Gabriela had inherited many admirable, not to mention useful, traits from her father, including magical powers and a vicious streak. With any luck, those gifts could be tapped into and manipulated.

But the phantom only had a short window of time to accomplish her goal, because Gabriela might exit the room once she found whatever she was looking for, or someone else in the apartment might decide to check on her...The disembodied soul acted on instinct, not knowing if her plan would even work but desperate enough to give the idea a try. She charged her prey while her back was still turned and she was preoccupied with searching her purse. When the spirit collided with the witch, she slipped inside the meatsuit as effortlessly as diving into a pool of water.

Gabriela went rigid on impact, then promptly collapsed. Convulsions racked her thin frame for several minutes, jostling-but failing to dislodge-the soul that now possessed her before she finally went limp.

When the host's eyes opened, the one who had invaded her found herself staring up at the ceiling and a lazily spinning ceiling fan from the cool, hard floor.

She gulped in air and grinned with Gabriela's mouth, then started to laugh quietly but wickedly in her voice, all the while relishing the everyday human sensations of a beating heart and drawing breath. Although her victim had been too physically and emotionally drained to escape becoming possessed, there was a chance her soul might someday regain the strength needed to challenge-and possibly even exorcise-the intruder sharing her body. But the latter immediately cast those fears out of her mind, because she had chosen Gabriela's vessel as her permanent residence and her will to live was as strong as, if not stronger than, the young witch's. _Nobody_ was going to evict her from her new home or tell her what she could and couldn't do with it.

 _This body is mine. All mine,_ she thought greedily in Spanish, the sole language both she and her "roommate" were fluent in. She managed to make the woman she now possessed shift into a sitting position, then got to her feet by gripping the edge of the desk for support. Slowly, and with one hand on the wall to steady herself as she took her first steps using someone else's legs, she approached the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bedroom door.

Adjusting to being human again was harder than she had anticipated.

After mastering standing without losing her balance, she studied her reflection from various angles, occasionally tilting Gabriela's head, squinting, and pursing her lips as she decided what improvements needed to be made. First of all, she intended to get those hideous jaguar and bull tattoos removed... _Especially_ the damned bull. The last thing she wanted was a reminder of the family that had caused her downfall inked on her replacement flesh. And she definitely wanted to dye Gabriela's trashy red streaks back to black. Also, she thought gaining a few pounds would make her skinny host body more attractive and-hopefully-increase her cup size, too. She might be undecided about whether or not to keep the tiny gold stud in her nose, but she was looking forward to experimenting with different clothing and makeup styles on her new body.

She sighed happily even as she noted that Gabriela's slightly darker eyes revealed the bloodthirsty entity lurking beneath the surface. There were so many things she wanted to do in her second lifetime that she must make a list or she would never remember them all. But killing her former husband and their grown children was at the top of that unwritten list-starting with Dario. And using what was left of their precious Gabriela as the murder weapon would make her revenge even sweeter...


End file.
